


Come Back and Haunt Me

by writeloveship



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M, Married Characters, Minor MPreg, Single Parents, Stripper Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeloveship/pseuds/writeloveship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is twenty-four and getting married. Blaine is twenty-two and hasn't seen Kurt in over three years. Kurt still lives with Rachel in their New York loft. Blaine is cramped in an apartment barely up to the fire code. Kurt is a budding fashion designer. Blaine is a stripper. Kurt can't stop thinking about Blaine. Blaine can't stop thinking about Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet Devon

**Author's Note:**

> Originally based off BPoTD #767

“The  _Banana Sling_?!” Kurt read slowly, climbing out of the taxi and stopping to stare up at the glowing neon letters. “Rachel, you  _must_ be joking. I can’t go in there!”

“Yes! You can! Come on!” She laughed, looping her arm through his and tugging him along. Kurt was able to dig his heels into the ground and refuse Rachel’s attempt, but Mercedes and Santana grabbed his other arm and were able to forcefully shove him through the double doors.

“You only get to have  _one_  bachelor party, Hummel.” Santana said. “Enjoy all the ball bouncing and lap dancing you can before you are reduced to a life of domestic, scheduled missionary sex with absolutely  _no_  personality.” Kurt turned to glare at her, but she was too busy shooing a group of thirty- something men away from a table to notice-let alone care about- Kurt’s threatening stare.

Kurt had told the girls he did  _not_ want a bachelor party. Kurt would have been fine with an outing with his close friends that counted as a ‘bachelor party’, but he really had no desire to have a true  _bachelor party_ ; He had specifically told each of them he did not want anything to do with strippers or dance clubs or half naked men or drinking, but someone they seemed to put him the single place that encompassed all four.

“What can I get you to drink, ladies and gentleman?” The waiter looked eighteen, though just barely. He stood at the end of their table with his pad of paper nervously, gawking at all four of them- more so at Kurt.

Kurt wasn’t sure if he had actually said ‘Excuse me, but you are twelve’, but his expression definitely said it as he ordered a gin and tonic, making sure to flash his engagement ring as he did so. Santana ordered them all tequila shots, which after the fifth dance club remix of the  _same_  Madonna song, Kurt downed without second thought.

Kurt sat back in his chair, his fingers spinning his empty shot glass idly as he looked at all the dancers. There were small square platforms branching off the main stage at the front of the room where a small crowd was forming. The spotlight had been aimed at the curtain opening where a lean, toned, olive colored leg peaked out and caused uproar within the group. This stripper was apparently popular by those who frequented the place regularly. All the other dancers had disappeared behind the curtain or had gone back to bar tending; whoever this guy was, he  _definitely_ was the main attraction.

The club remix of Lucky Star faded away to allow Call on Me to nearly deafen Kurt as it pounded through the speakers and onto the dance floor. The men crowded in the front banged on tables and catcalled as the song started.

“Who is this guy?” Mercedes said, leaning over to Kurt. “I think there is a group of people here  _just_  to see him… Debonair Devon?”

“Oh god,  _this_  is going to be interesting.” Kurt scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. He never understood strip clubs- the men who came to them more than anything. They were just so shameless. They just showed up with the intent throwing dollar bills at other grown men while getting an erection in a room of complete strangers. The whole ritual seemed like it should only really happen in movies.

“Shhh! Here he comes.” Rachel hushed, slapping Kurt’s leg. She was  _far_  too interested for Kurt’s taste. She was over stimulated by the loud music, shirtless men, and provocative dancing- she didn’t know where to look first. Though, with Devon strutting out onto the catwalk, she was finally given a point of focus.

Kurt watched as the curtain pulled apart and revealed a muscular and compact dancer in shiny green shorts and a black tank top, his hair was tousled, and his muscles glistening in the bright stage lights. The minute the beat dropped, he was gyrating and grinding his way over to the large pole that Kurt thought was  _just_  for decoration. He didn’t think he would ever witness a pole dancer; He thought he would forever maintain his pole dancing virginity. Much to Kurt’s dismay, the pole was significantly closer to their table than the main stage and as he came closer- his shirt getting thrown aside in the process- both Rachel and Mercedes were clutching Kurt’s forearms with vice-like grips as Santana watched with more interest than attraction.

Devon had bills jammed every which way in the waistband of his shorts, soon being joined by more singles that were being waved at him with such ferocity, Kurt wasn’t sure if he should step in and help him or continue to watch cautiously. While Devon was spinning around the pole, his legs bent at ninety degree angles to flex his  _amazing_  thighs, Kurt chose to avert his gaze and look at Devon’s face. To Kurt, the most intimate part of a person was their face and expression- especially when they think no one is paying any attention to it. No matter his very  _apparent_ bulge and flexing muscles, Kurt found the most appeal in the dancer’s expression.

Devon stopped spinning and allowed his face to come into Kurt’s focus. Kurt took every feature in, especially his dead, honey colored eyes. Kurt couldn’t put his finger on it, but the more he looked into Devon’s eyes, the more he felt like he should turn away and leave. There was no way Devon was making  _that_  expression while doing this job for  _fun_. There were definitely underlying reasons as to why he was standing up on the stage, exposing his entire body to complete strangers, letting them shove crumpled bills into his pants, and completely ignoring the fact that there were men  _dying_  to just touch him- a fact that would make  _any_  person be just the tiniest bit flattered. Those honey eyes were talking to Kurt in a way that he hadn’t been in years. They were communicating a whole story- a whole past, present, and future of Devon- without Kurt’s consent. He was just gaining perspective and understanding to the look of disappointment and resentment and regret and shame and guilt and the look of complete self-hatred. Kurt had seen that look before. He had been given this story before. Devon was familiar to Kurt-

“Blaine.” Kurt gasped, sitting up straight. It felt odd in Kurt’s mouth; he hadn’t said it in years.

“What?” Mercedes asked, raising her eyebrow. “What name did you just say?”

“Blaine.” Kurt repeated, refusing to let it stay unfamiliar. “That’s Blaine- That’s  _our_ Blaine.”

“What? Where?” Rachel asked, coming out of her daze. “Where is Blaine?”

“ _There_.” Kurt said, pointing up at his ex-fiancé as he rolled his hips against the pole, causing more men to stretch forward and thrust their dollars towards Blaine’s green shorts. “ _That’s_ Blaine.”

“No. No it’s not.” Mercedes denied, shaking her head. “That can be our Blaine. That is  _not_  your high school sweetheart. That is not.”

  
“Mercedes, Blaine’s middle name is Devon.” Kurt said quietly, biting his lip. It was the only fact that Kurt could use to convince Mercedes, since the ways in which Kurt  _knew_  it was his Blaine were ways that no one else would understand. “It’s him.”

A million and one questions were racing through Kurt’s mind. He hadn’t seen Blaine in  _years_. When Blaine moved out of Kurt’s apartment, and Kurt met Andrew, he never heard or thought about Blaine again. And he had been content with that. But now that Kurt was staring at Blaine- and the consequences of his actions- Kurt was beginning to feel as though he should’ve answered one of those attempted phone calls from Blaine. Maybe if he answered, he could have convinced Blaine to not drop out of NYADA or not drop off the grid and  _definitely_  convince him to not become a stripper at twenty. This life wasn’t Blaine’s. This wasn’t what he wanted. Something was definitely wrong with Blaine- Those honey eyes hadn’t lied to him. He knew Blaine needed someone to listen. Even if it was someone who broke his heart three years prior.

—-

“Listen, Sophia,  _please_. Just half an hour, that’s all I need. Just watch Luke for like, half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes tops, and I’ll be home… No-  _Please_. Sophia-  _Shit!_ ” Blaine slammed his phone down on his vanity table and sunk his head into his hands. He took in a steady breath and held it for as long as he could hoping he could calm his heartbeat and allow for a regular breathing pattern. Blaine let his hands drag down his face, before falling limp on the dresser. Without his hands blocking his vision, he was stuck staring at his own reflection. Blaine didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. He recognized the  _boy_  that was gawking back at him, the high school performer that had Broadway aspirations and an engagement ring in his back pocket at all times that was positively  _shocked_  at the direction Blaine’s life was heading. He recognized the disgust that he had tried to mask with eyeliner and glitter.

Blaine learned the hard way that not all monsters can be hidden. Some come back to haunt you-

“…Blaine?”

Blaine looked up from keeping his own gaze and looked at the figure standing in the doorway. He hadn’t had a visitor in his dressing room before except for those who sneak in and try to feel him up; he’s never had one that  _knocked_. Or knew his real name.

“Look, I’m off the clock right now. I really need to-  _Kurt_?” Blaine had not spoken to Kurt in three years. He had not seen his face in three years. He had not looked Kurt in the eye for three years. But this most definitely wasn’t the first time he’d thought about Kurt in three years.

“Hi, Blaine.” Kurt mumbled, shuffling his feet nervously. “Can I come in?”

“Uh… Uh sure.” Blaine nodded, pushing leather pants and feather boas off an ottoman before pushing it towards Kurt. He grabbed an old T-shirt he had lying on the floor and pulled it over himself so he wasn’t half naked and covered in shining, glittery sweat from his performance.

Blaine wasn’t sure how he wanted to act around Kurt. Kurt  _had_ completely abandon Blaine when he tried to tell him about the conception of their son, Luke. He  _tried_. Key word being  _tried_. Before Blaine could even tell the news, Kurt had gotten the impression that the important conversation that they  _needed_  to have was about Blaine cheating on him again. Unfortunately, Blaine was so nervous about trying to form the proper words to describe his situation that he didn’t really  _deny_  the previous accusation. It was in  _no_   _way_  true, but Blaine just didn’t process what it was that he had avoided in attempts to talk about something else. Blaine thought he should be kind; if Kurt wanted to be sweet and sincere and talk to or listen to Blaine, then Blaine figured he should be as well.

“It’s been a long time.” Kurt said plainly, sitting down. He crossed his legs and folded his hands over his knee. Blaine noticed the engagement ring. He didn’t say anything. “I didn’t expect to find you here.” Blaine ignored the connotation of the statement.

“I didn’t expect you to ever find me.” Blaine muttered, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I thought we’d die without ever speaking again…”

“Me too.” Kurt nodded, not making eye contact with Blaine. He was staring down at his left hand. “But then again, you left. I figured you never wanted to talk to me anyway.”

“I called you every day for four months.” Blaine interjected. “I called you  _every day_. You don’t get to say that you were afraid we’d never speak again. You had the ability to end the silence.  _You could have_.” Blaine’s kind exterior had begun to crack as he remembered trying to reach Kurt and tell him the truth. Tell him about Luke.

“I couldn’t, Blaine. I needed space.” Kurt said it as though it was an expected response. Blaine stared blankly at Kurt trying to find the rationale behind his tone and belief that Blaine would understand why  _he_  would need time. But then Blaine remembered Kurt had believed a lie for three years. He didn’t know  _anything_.

“I never cheated on you.” Blaine said flatly, turning away from Kurt to dig through one of his vanity table drawers.

“What? Y-You didn’t? I thought it was Eli or- or  _someone_.”

“No, Kurt.” Blaine looked over his shoulder at Kurt and let his eyes convince him. “There was no other man in my life. Except for Luke.”

“Who’s Luke?” Kurt asked, growing defensive and upset, just like before. Blaine winced at the crack in Kurt’s voice and felt like he was sitting in a sauna as he turned back.

“This is Luke.” Blaine held a folded picture out to Kurt. “He’s almost four. He loves zebras, math, and picking flowers. His favorite color is yellow and he loves daffodils. He is learning to play the piano and has perfect pitch-  _as a three year old_.” Blaine smiled warmly to himself as he watched Kurt lift the picture closer to his face and take in the picture of the small child.

“He looks just like-”

“You?” Blaine laughed. “Yeah. I know.”

The pair remained silent as Kurt stared at the picture, his eyes fixed on the faded image of his only son. Blaine waited for Kurt to deny Blaine’s claim or to give the picture back and storm out, but instead, Blaine sat and watched Kurt tear up at the picture of Luke and Blaine at Luke’s second birthday party with Cooper and his parents.

“That’s our son.” He whispered, his fingers tracing the image. “That’s  _our_  son… We have a son.”

“Yeah. We do.” Blaine nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “We have a kid. And a pretty amazing one at that.”

“Do the other kids like him?” Kurt asked, looking up at Blaine suddenly, his tears spilling over onto his cheeks. Blaine chuckled at the question; Kurt was already past the beginning awkwardness of their meeting. They knew each other better than anyone else on the entire Earth, and Kurt knew it. He knew that asking questions about their son would be like him asking how Luke was doing after Kurt left for a week, not like Kurt was asking after being absent for three years. They were already back to being comfortable with each other. Even if they were in a strip club dressing room and Blaine was covered in dollar bills.

“The other kids love him, Kurt. He really loves music which the other kids think is actually pretty cool… I guess he got that from you.” Blaine smiled at Kurt and hoped he would do the same. “He’s more like you everyday, to be honest. No matter how much  _I_  raise him, he just wants to be like you.”

“Does he know who I am?” Kurt asked, clutching the picture to his chest.

“From pictures, yeah.” Blaine nodded. “He knows of you.” Blaine told Luke that Kurt was a good friend of his from when he was growing up, not that he was his dad that left them to get married to a hot thirty year old because he was under the impression that Blaine had cheated on him when actually he was just a carrier that had found out his status in a very inconvenient way.

“He’s beautiful.” Kurt sighed, sniffling. “C-Can I keep this picture?” It was Blaine’s only printed picture of Luke.

“Sure. Take it.” Blaine nodded, smiling at Kurt and getting one in return. Blaine went to speak again but Kurt’s phone began ringing and shattered the connection between them.

“Oh, it’s Rachel. They must be looking for me. Look, I’ve got to go, Blaine.” Kurt stood quickly and stuffed the picture into his back pocket creasing the corners as he secured it at the very bottom. “I’ll call you… I still have your number.” Kurt turned and was seconds out the door when Blaine called him back.

“Kurt! Kurt, wait!” Blaine didn’t want it to be the last time he ever said his name.

“What, Blaine?” Kurt addressed Blaine by his name and made him sink into his chair as he missed the way Kurt spoke to him with the utmost love and admiration and never with mockery or a trace of impatience. Kurt just  _spoke_  to Blaine- and often listened.

“Tomorrow is my only day off this week.” Blaine began, his hopes high and his smile bright. Maybe they could catch up and get coffee, like old times, and maybe start all over, possibly getting farther than they had last time. Blaine missed being friends with Kurt. He missed having someone that understood him even when he, himself, didn’t. “W-What are you doing tomorrow?” Blaine’s heart stopped and leapt up to his throat as Kurt responded, leaving without a second glance:

_“Getting married.”_


	2. One Happy Marriage

“This is so _stupid_. What am I doing? If he wanted to call me, he would have.” Blaine muttered to himself, angrily. He had been sitting at his crooked dining table since he got home from work, staring at his phone and waiting for it to finally ring. Waiting for it to be Kurt, calling to say he wants to meet Luke and just _be together again_.

It had been three years. Three years since Blaine had even heard Kurt’s name, heard his voice, three years since Blaine had felt what it was like to be in love. Since he moved out of his and Kurt’s loft and dropped out of NYADA and found his own questionable, yet cheap, apartment in a different part of the city, he hadn’t experienced the same level of love and affection they had shared; he and Kurt had loved each other on such a deep, intimate level of pure acceptance, with an understanding of one another’s faults and flaws as well as their adoring qualities and perfect imperfections; no other relationship was going to compare.

“He’s not going to call.” Blaine sighed, leaning back in his chair, defeated. “What was I thinking?” Blaine had no one else to talk to besides the silence of the apartment and, at the moment, it was the only thing willing to listen to his woes. “Kurt has a _fiancé_.” Blaine assumed the title was ‘husband’ by now, but he didn’t have the will power to utter the words aloud, even if the silence was the only one around.

“Daddy?” Well, Luke was around too.

“What, Lucas? What’s the matter?” Blaine called, turning to face towards his son’s room. “I’m coming, kiddo.” Blaine stood, tucking his phone into his pocket, and walked towards his son’s bedroom to see what he needed. Luke was curled up in his blue racecar bed- his prize possession- his blankets pulled up to his chin as he stared at the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Who are you talking to?” He asked nervously.

“No one.” Blaine answered quickly before he realized that a three year old wouldn’t understand the aversion to the topic and would _really_ understand that Blaine wasn’t talking to another person, just himself and his disappointment. “Just, someone from work.” Luke thought Blaine worked at a makeup store down in the village- Why else would he come home covered in glitter?

“Work? Daddy, it’s too early for that!” Luke whined, looking at his father in a disappointed way. Blaine registered the way Luke phrased his scolding; it was _early_. Blaine turned to look at the clock and saw it was already seven in the morning. Blaine had been staring at his phone for almost eight hours.

“Yeah, it is.” Blaine agreed, rubbing his eyes. He had to push Kurt’s phone call out of his mind. Kurt was god knows where, with his fiancé; Luke was _here_ , with Blaine. As much as Blaine didn’t want to let go of his last string of hope and realize that seeing Kurt again was less than probable, Luke was much more important than the revival of false hope in a dream. He had to replace his glitter and eyeliner with a smile in order to mask his disappointment that day- for both himself and for Luke.

“What did they want?” Luke asked, exemplifying a typical three year old; everything was a question of ‘why’ or ‘who’ or ‘what for’. It almost cheered Blaine up- someone wanted to know about his entire day from one uneventful minute to the other.

“It is too early. It’s a good thing I told them I’m not working today, huh?” Blaine replied, cracking his mask to allow his son a small smile.

“No work today?” Luke squealed, throwing his sheets back, waiting for Blaine to confirm his assumption.

“No work today.” Blaine laughed, putting his arms out to catch Luke as he jumped up to hug Blaine, before placing him back on the bed.

“Can we go to the park today? I wanna go to the park. Sophia never takes me!” Luke begged. “Let’s go to the park!”

“Do I _have_ to take you to the park?” Blaine whined, mulling Luke’s suggestion over in his head teasingly as he hoisted Luke off the ground and balanced him on his hip.

“ _Dadddyyyy_!” Luke whined, tugging on Blaine’s shirt. “Please!”

“Alright! Alright! I _guess_ I can take you.” Blaine smiled, kissing Luke’s forehead. “I will be more than happy to take you to the park, today.” Luke grinned, and clapped his hands, before bouncing in Blaine’s arms. “But first, I’m going to make you some breakfast. How’s that sound, champ? Do you want some breakfast?”

“Lemon Blueberry pancakes. Lemon Blueberry pancakes!” Luke chanted, bouncing more furiously, almost completely jumping out of Blaine’s arms. Blaine felt himself smile brighter as he placed Luke back on the ground; he really _was_ like Kurt. Always a sucker for Blaine’s pancakes.

And somehow oblivious to the feelings behind a smile.

After the two had shared breakfast, and Blaine had dressed Luke, but left him in his room to ‘fix’ his outfit while Blaine got ready. Getting into civilian clothes was always an odd process for Blaine. Sure, he had lived nineteen years walking around in nothing _but_ civilian clothes, but now that he was twenty- two, and working on his working on his third year of wearing clothes that were either see-through, tear away, or made of leather, civilian clothes were still something Blaine had to get used to. Blaine sometimes forgot what it was like to just walk amongst a group of people on a morning commute or lazy sunny afternoon and just be one of them. Blaine forgot what it was like to stand in a crowd and be a Nobody, but be totally okay with it- be totally content of just being another New Yorker. Not a New Yorker with a secret that he hoped no one recognized. 

He avoided his mirror- and the monster living within its reflection- as he trusted his fingers to style his hair kindly and for his bowtie to straighten itself out by the force of gravity. Blaine didn’t wear bowties as often as he did three years ago, but he began to bring the fashion trend back into his life as Luke took a liking to them. Anything that made Luke happy made Blaine happy, and was worth doing. 

“Are you ready?” Blaine asked Luke as he slipped his arms into his black shawl collar sweater. 

“Yes, Daddy! I’m ready, let’s go!” Luke called, stamping and pounding his feet as he playfully toddled towards Blaine. Blaine crouched down and picked Luke up, walking him out the door and down the eight flights of stairs before going out onto the sidewalk. 

By the time they were closer to Central Park, Luke was on Blaine’s shoulders and staring out onto the world like a small king, pointing out his favorite places he would go with his babysitter, Sophia, when they would go out on afternoons Blaine had work. He nearly toppled over Blaine’s head as he excitedly pointed at an ice cream shop. Blaine tugged on Luke’s feet to bring him back into stability before promising his son ice cream later in the day.

The pair was singing an obnoxiously peppy rendition of _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_ as they navigated the sidewalk and entered the park on the West side. Blaine took Luke along the trees, letting him pick blossoms off as he passed underneath them, before he handed them down to Blaine and asked him to tie their stems together, making a wreath of blossoms and leaves, which Luke placed on Blaine’s head. They walked passed Strawberry Fields and were about to go over Blaine’s own personal favorite spot in New York, Bow Bridge, when Blaine was stopped a small crowd of well dressed, suited men lined up on the walkway. Blaine began to walk along The Lake, but still looked back at the group standing, and being photographed, on the bridge.

Blaine had stopped to let Luke tug at a tree that had stricken his curiosity while he gave into his own curiosity and continued to watch the group. It looked like a wedding party of just the groom’s men, but there were far too many of them- and there were five women too. It was too early in the spring to be any form of prom season so it _had_ to be a wedding… But Blaine couldn’t find a bride. Not that there needed to be one…

He saw on the opposite side of the bridge a man dressed in the _only_ outfit that bordered any type of modern fashion. As he walked closer, Blaine could see that his ensemble included both the traditional colors of black and white while bringing in accents of navy blue- just like the five women’s dresses. His white suit jacket’s tails flapped behind him as he strolled up to the bridge’s peak. He adjusted his navy blue tie momentarily before running his finger through his well sculpted hair in a very familiar manner-

“Kurt?” Blaine muttered, stepping closer to the scene and trying to identify the second groom. There was no mistaking it no matter how much Blaine wanted to deny it. It was Kurt. Even after three years, Blaine still knew Kurt better than he knew himself; every habit, every mannerism, every nit pick he made towards his outfit, Blaine knew it was Kurt. And knew he was nervous.

“Daddy? What are you looking at?” Luke asked, curiously prodding Blaine’s head to get his attention. “What are they doing?”

“They are getting married.” Blaine replied, trying to sound as pleasant as he could for his son. “They are going to be together for the rest of their lives and love each other in the most heavenly of ways- being there for each other and never letting the other one feel like they are alone. Those two people right there are going to be happy for the rest of their lives.” Blaine took a deep breath and gripped Luke’s calves again as he repositioned him on his shoulders. “They are going to be the happiest people in the _world_ for the rest of their time on it.”

“Why?” Luke asked, resting his elbows on Blaine’s head as he stared out at the bridge, just like his father was.

“Because people are always happy when they get married.”

“Why aren’t _you_ married, Daddy?” Blaine wasn’t sure if Luke had asked Blaine because he had never been with anyone since Luke was born, or if he was asking because he didn’t think that Blaine was happy. Either way, it wasn’t a question he wanted his son to ask so early on; he didn’t want to start lying to him so early.

“I just- I don’t really want to be married.” Blaine responded carefully. “Besides, I have all the man I need, right here.” Blaine grinned, playfully, tugging on Luke’s legs. “Since I have you, I don’t need anyone else.”

“Daddy, that’s silly.” Luke responded, sounding disappointed in his father’s lack of explanation.

“You’re right.” Blaine sighed, turning away from the bridge and staring off in the other direction. “It is silly.”

Blaine knew his son didn’t really understand the reasons that Blaine hadn’t gotten married or why he had refused to let anyone else in behind his walls since he left Kurt. His son didn’t understand Blaine’s refusal to love someone else- as if his relationship with Kurt was something to simply replace, like someone else could even compare to the way that Kurt made Blaine feel safe and secure and loved. No one else was ever going to do that for Blaine. No one else was going to make Sadie Hawkins seem like a distant, forgotten nightmare; no one else was going to make his loud, screaming anxieties about his inadequacy as a human being become quiet whispers; no one else was going to make Blaine feel like he was enough for himself, his family, and the world. No one else was going to lift Blaine up the way that Kurt had, and falling in love with or marrying anyone else was just going to make Blaine feel like he settled on a person and on a future. Blaine would have rather not marry at all than try and use a marriage as his new mask.

“Daddy, do you want another loop?” Luke asked, dangling flower blossoms in Blaine’s line of sight when the two were silent for a few minutes and Blaine fought his urge to turn back and watch Kurt get married.

“A flower loop?” Blaine asked, taking the blossoms from Luke’s small, pudgy hands. “Of course, I do!”

Together, Blaine and Luke sat in the grass, leaning against a tree trunk, and tied flower stems together making another flower crown for Blaine. For whatever reason, Luke saw a woman wearing one as they were walking to the park and he decided in the split second he saw it, that his father needed one as well- even more than one. Blaine did most of the tying since Luke’s fingers were far too small and unskilled to handle tying, twisting, and weaving flowers together to create a ring of flowers to be placed on Blaine’s head, joining his crown of Callery pear blossoms.

While Blaine finished tying the last two stems together, completing the loop, Luke climbed into his lap, and tried to preemptively take the wreath from him. Blaine finished as quickly as he could and allowed Luke to take it. He stood on his tip-toes and reached up to bestow unto Blaine another crown.

“Now you can look like you can getting married too, Daddy!” Luke smiled, taking three unsteady steps backwards to look at his- well, Blaine’s- fine handy work.

“Thank you, Luke.” Blaine grinned, holding out his arms to hug him.

“Are you happy now, Daddy?” Luke asked, burying his face into Blaine’s shoulder. “You look like you are getting married, so now you can be happy! Are you happy?”

“Of course I am.” Blaine replied, leaning his head against his small son’s. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding Luke close to him and feeling Luke’s short arms grip his sweater and attempt to make it around his whole torso. Blaine held Luke in silence for as long as he would stay in his arms. Neither of them backed away from one another until a quiet voice spoke from beside the tree and startled them both.

“…B-Blaine?”


	3. Don't Call Me That

_“…B-Blaine?”_

Blaine pulled away from Luke and turned to see who had recognized him. There were only a few people in the city who knew his first name- and one of them was currently getting married across the park. He sat up straighter and held Luke’s fidgeting body still as he gawked at the figure approaching him curiously.

“Mr. _Hummel_?”

“What in the name of hell are you doing here?” Burt had a cobalt gray suit with a small white carnation boutonnière on his lapel- he was obviously attending Kurt’s wedding. And apparently wanted to know why Blaine was as well. “Why are you here?”

“I-I’m out with my son.” Blaine reported slowly, petting Luke’s soft brunet hair, quietly reassuring Luke that the stranger approaching them was someone that wasn’t going to hurt them.

“Your son? You have a kid.” Burt echoed, his eyes dropping to Luke as he tried to hide in Blaine’s sweater.

“Yes sir, I do.” Blaine nodded, still keeping his movements minor and voice soft. “His name is Lucas Tracy Anderson.” Luke perked up at his name and turned to Burt slowly, waving cautiously, and waiting for Burt to smile or wave back.

“Tracy?” Burt seemed to notice the only irregularity in Luke’s name. Blaine had been waiting for someone to ask, not that Blaine spoke to enough people to really have a comparable number of those who asked and didn’t ask. “Is that your mom’s name?”

“No. Not a family name.” Blaine said, shaking his head. “It was just one of the name’s Kurt wanted to name a daughter of his- either Tracy or Hepburn- and I thought that Tracy would be a beautiful middle name. I mean, if Kurt has a traditionally female middle name, why shouldn’t his son?” Blaine explained, kissing Luke on the top of the head and grinning at him brightly before feeling the silence from Burt set in and grab him by the neck, squeezing out his ability to respond or to breathe evenly.

“His son?” Blaine hadn’t intended to reveal to Burt that Luke was technically his grandchild. Blaine hesitantly raised his eyes up to Burt’s towering figure beside him.

Burt’s face was still and blank, gawking down at the small child sitting in Blaine’s lap, completely unsure as to what was happening around him. Burt slowly sunk down to his knees next to Blaine and watched Luke push his hair away from his eyes, mirroring Kurt in an odd, father-like-son way. Burt’s eyes were glassy and wide, watching him like there was no other object of importance, watching him like he _wasn’t_ growing late to his only son’s wedding.

“So you’re a-” Burt said slowly, waving his hand at Luke and then Blaine’s torso.

“Yes, sir.”

“And he’s _your_ kid.”

“Yes sir. Me and Kurt.”

“And Kurt’s still getting mar-”

“Yes sir.” Blaine nodded, cutting Burt’s statement off. Blaine didn’t need to hear it said aloud. Blaine had forgotten about it for a moment and didn’t need a reminder that all his dreams of his life in the future and the possible family life for Luke were being crushed as the wedding bells rung down the block. “Yes he is.”

Blaine pressed his lips together and nodded at Burt, his eyes beginning to sting as he reluctantly felt his chest clench at the truth of his situation sinking in. Kurt was moving on and marrying another man at the exact moment that Blaine was sitting there. While he was blinking and breathing, Kurt was cutting Blaine out of his life. Blaine ducked his head and tried to focus on Luke as he stood on Blaine’s lap and tried to rearrange the flower crowns that were sitting in his curls. The sunlight was shining through the leaves overhead and giving Luke a spotted glow that cast a halo right above his head. It made his gorgeous cornflower blue eyes become glistening stars curiously gazing at Blaine while he cocked his head and clumsily wiped the single tear from Blaine’s cheek.

Blaine was having a hard time swallowing the truth that Luke was going to grow up without his second father. Luke was going to grow up a practical clone of Kurt, and never even meet him. He was going to be missing a big part of who he was, simply because Blaine didn’t have the courage to tell Kurt sooner.

“Does Kurt even know?” Blaine had almost forgotten Burt was there watching him slowly crumble at the reminder that Kurt was marrying someone else and planning the rest of his life without a single second put aside to figure out what he was going to do about Blaine or Luke.

“Yes. He knows. As of last night.” Blaine answered. “I was too late.” He muttered, placing a fallen lock of Luke’s hair back in place and avoiding Burt’s eyes. “I was too late to get him to even remember what we had… I mean, I know he has a husband now and he has a life and I’ve been gone for three years, but…”

“You just want what’s best for your kid.” Burt finished, sounding sympathetic. “Every good father wants what’s best for their kid.” Burt patted Blaine’s shoulder before he stood and brushed off his suit and loitered next to Blaine for a moment longer than expected before sighing and getting Blaine’s attention. “I’ll see you around, Anderson. Stay safe, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

“Love you, kid. Don’t forget that.” Burt nodded at Blaine and waved to Luke one last time before walking back to the wedding party that was still crowded around the bridge. Blaine watched as long as he could; once he caught a glimpse of the man in the crisp, glowing white suit, he grabbed Luke’s hand and walked him back home.

The entire walk home, Luke kept asking why Blaine wasn’t happy. Luke kept asking why he had a ‘Sad daddy’ when everyone else had a ‘Happy dad’. Blaine had no real answer for Luke- All of Blaine’s answers were locked up in the heart of a married man, standing in Central Park.

\---

Blaine hated working Wednesday nights. Every Wednesday there was always the same crowd of rambunctious middle aged office men who would come in with their mid-week ‘Hump Day’ dollar bills and all but throw them at Blaine as they shouted at him to give _them_ a lap dance next. And then, because of the bar’s policy to prevent any ‘discrimination’ Blaine would _have_ to give each and every one that asked a lap dance. Blaine wanted to take the money they slowly slid into his metallic shorts- all in order to feel him up- and shove it down their throats, just so _they_ could have a lump in their throats too. Sure, Blaine’s was from resentment and self loathing, but it was a lump just the same. Blaine wasn’t picky when it came to punishment at this point.

He was on his fifth lap dance, but had to keep the line waiting as he was called on stage for his usual performance of _Applause_ with four other dancers. It was their every week performance, but somehow everyone _still_ found the excitement to bang on their tables and cat call them as they climbed up on stage or on the tables they were serving to start the number.

Every time Blaine performed the dance number, he always got this overwhelming feeling that all hope was lost. He had been performing this song with his best friends not three years ago all for Sam’s ridiculous plan to date the school nurse. But now, here he was, in a similarly metallic and revealing pair of silver scaled shorts that just about held all of Blaine in them. Before, he was singing this song with determination and  _joy_  and now all Blaine was doing was mindlessly gyrating his hips and winking at men that had dollar bills outstretched to him. The feeling always swallowed Blaine up; it left him empty and ashamed after every performance.

By the time the song was reaching its last chorus, Blaine was grinding up against his co-worker and arguably closest friend at the Banana Sling, Tyler. Tyler had a girlfriend working two jobs and ten thousand dollars worth of student loans at home and understood Blaine’s undeniable _need_ to leave as soon as his shift was over and not a second later. The song ended and Blaine thanked Tyler for dancing with him- a tradition Blaine had since Tyler obviously  _wasn’t_ gay and obviously  _wasn’t_ enjoying the time he spent grinding his dick into Blaine’s ass simply to hear the ever pleasing and boss satisfying cheer from the drunken crowd as they threw dollar bills at them. Blaine leaned down and began to pick up the bills at his feet when a small stack of unfolded bills were being held out to him.

“These fell on the floor.” It was Burt.

“Mr. Hummel! W-What are you doing here?!” Blaine cried, jumping down from the stage platform and coming closer to Burt. “How did you-”

“You do know Rachel will tell you anything you ask, as long as you praise her beforehand, right?” Burt answered smugly, folding his arms across his chest. “Now how about I ask you what  _you’re_  doing here.” With the loud, thumping music being played in the club, Blaine couldn’t tell if it was his heart pounding in his ears or if it was his body heightening his hearing in attempts to distract him from the question being presented to him without escape.

“I work here.” Blaine felt compelled to answer truthfully to Burt; he couldn’t lie to his only father figure; the only man who really raised him when he needed it the most. “I have been for three years. It pays for Luke’s babysitter and pays for the rent.”

“You need rent money or help you call me, not some strip club.” Burt’s voice started out gruff and scolding, but softened as Blaine began shifting uncomfortably at his proximity to the rowdy businessmen behind him. They were smacking and grabbing Blaine’s ass as he tried to talk to Burt, only making it harder to keep eye contact with him. “Blaine, is there somewhere we could go to talk?” Burt asked, putting his arm around him and moving Blaine away from the crowd. “I want to, uh, catch up.”

Blaine knew Burt wasn’t asking Blaine to take him somewhere quiet so he could shoot the shit with him, he knew Burt was about to scold him on his life choices and tell him to get a different job and offer him money and a safer apartment and unconditional love- but Blaine knew he couldn’t accept any of it. He didn’t deserve it.

Blaine walked into his dressing room first, picking up the leather pair of pants, vest, and collar off the floor and stuffing it into his dresser, hoping that Burt wouldn’t notice the other outfits around the room and piece together what it exactly it was that Blaine got paid for.

Blaine waited for Burt to sit down before he did, he didn’t want to seem eager to ‘be at home’ in a room full of thongs and handcuffs.

“What did you want to talk about, Mr. Hummel?” Blaine tried to present himself in a formal manner even though he was shaking from his internal emptiness and only wearing a thin shiny piece of fabric to cover himself.

“You.” Burt replied without hesitation. He had come to Blaine’s place of work with a purpose. And Blaine wasn’t sure if it was to get answers or to scare Blaine straight. Either one was going to be a conversation Blaine would hate having.

“What about me, sir?”

“Why are you doing this?” Burt asked, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. “Why didn’t you call one of us instead of just…  _skipping town_?”

“I’m guessing Rachel told you the whole story.” Blaine muttered, feeling his face grow red. He could only imagine the way Rachel told the story- the way he built up his departure, the way he abandon Kurt in the blink of an eye and left him reeling and wondering where he went wrong. Blaine was wondering how Burt was even looking him in the eye.

“Rachel told me her side. I’m much more interested in hearing  _your_ version.” Burt nodded his head at him, signaling Blaine to start talking as his eyes focused in on Blaine’s and made him feel both flattered and intimidated at the same time; he really was Kurt’s father.

“I have no story, sir. I have a series of mistakes that explain the horrible things that I’ve done to both myself and to Kurt, but I have no story. I have no grand tale that is finished with a perfect happy ending.”

“Aw hell, Anderson, no body has that.” Burt was practically laughing at Blaine’s oddly poetic version of ‘my life fucking sucks and I’m to blame for all of it so I don’t really want to talk about it’. “I may have a beautiful wife and a newly married son who is currently in god knows what European country on his honeymoon,” Blaine shifted his body on his chair and silently told Burt to move on from the subject. “But I still don’t have a perfect ending to any story I have; I have a gay son that was bullied almost to  _death_ , I have a dead wife whom I still love very dearly, I have a dead step-son who I will  _never_  get to thank for all that he has done for me and the Hudson-Hummel family. I am  _how_  old and life still sucks for me too, kid. It’s called  _life_. And it is your story. And I want to know why yours happened the way it did.”

Blaine sat still for a moment and opened his mouth before closing it quickly, realizing that every answer he tried to formulate trailed off the minute he had to admit to Burt that he left when he was already three months pregnant. There was no way he could explain to him the panic inducing week that lead up to his exit from Kurt’s life. The week that started off with his mother calling him to tell him that her sister’s son just found out he was a carrier and that he should probably get tested, but then went to Blaine feeling strangely nauseous all the time and constantly needing to run into the bathroom to relive his entire breakfast, all before coming full circle to the pregnancy test Blaine took in the dead of night in the loft’s cluttered bathroom, hoping that the small blue minus sign would show up and Blaine would be able to act like none of the prior four days had even happened and that he and Kurt were in a relationship without any secrets or unplanned surprises that could change their entire lives for the worst. But that wasn’t how the story ended. The stick revealed a pink plus sign and Blaine spent the entire evening sobbing into his sleeve, trying not to wake Kurt; trying not to let his secret reveal itself to anyone other than Blaine.

Blaine had no way of putting those seven days into a story that made coherent sense since half of those seven days were spent either sleeping in attempts to wake up from the nightmare he was having, sobbing due to Blaine’s utter lack of preparedness for this level of  _adulthood_  to come crashing down on him, or lying to prevent Santana or Rachel from finding the pregnancy test and starting a whole debate over who’s it was and eventually outing Blaine as a carrier. Blaine had no true recollections of him sitting down and having a clear moment of thought just to himself- something he could tell Burt about to give him some form of idea of what it was like for him, leaving Kurt behind three years ago.

“I-I really don’t want to talk about this, Mr. Hummel. I can’t. I’m not ready.” Blaine had never really admitted it out loud, but he truly wasn’t ready to discuss any of his past with anyone other than Kurt. If he was going to tell  _anyone_  about the past three years of his life up to when he closed that loft door for the last time, it would be Kurt. Blaine spent three years sheltering and hiding his secrets and it would only be right to reveal them to the one person that truly deserved to hear the god’s honest truth.

“Fine. I understand.” Burt nodded, slowly getting to his feet, mulling over his next sentence. “You know… Kurt still loves you.”

“Mr. Hummel.” Blaine sighed, not wanting to hear the rest of Burt’s speech. He continued anyway.

“You know, I may sometimes be clueless about things that involve Kurt, but he is still my son and I know him better than anyone.” Blaine begged to differ. “The Hummel’s don’t just stop loving someone. We are a caring family- once we take you in, you are one of us, no matter what happens. And you are still one of us, Blaine. And no matter what level of ‘family’ you are to Kurt, he still loves you. Remember that, alright?” Burt was at the door frame, standing in the exact spot Kurt had been a few days prior, waiting to tell Blaine that he was already engaged and getting married in less than twelve hours. He raised his hand to wave to Blaine as he took a step in the direction of the exit. “I’ll see you around, Blaine.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Hummel.” Blaine was about to swivel his chair back around to his vanity table and have another staring match with his reflection when Burt came back to the door frame, poking his head in for just a moment longer:

“I told you, Blaine. It’s Dad.”


	4. Get Angry

Luke’s forth birthday was in three days and Blaine wanted more than  _anything_  to be that excited father counting down the days until his son’s big day. But Luke turning four was  _not_  something Blaine was looking forward to. Being four meant that Luke was more cognitively aware of what Blaine was doing with his life- his life, his lies, his secrets. Being four meant Luke would start going to school soon, and Blaine wasn’t sure how he was going to support a child going to Kindergarten on his fluctuating mostly tip salary at the Banana Sling.

Blaine was going to have to pay for his son’s first day of school outfit with the money he earned doing lap dances on horny fifty year olds, and nothing made Blaine feel more like a terrible father than remembering that  _all_  of his son’s things were paid- and were _going_  to be paid- with his lap dancing money.

Honestly, it usually kept Blaine awake at night, thinking about his son’s future. Blaine always wondered if he had done right by Luke, keeping him and not letting a more well off and wealthy family take care of him- and secure a  _stable life_  for him. Blaine hated to think that Luke was worse off being with his  _actual father_. Well, one of them. Maybe Luke would be better off staying with Kurt and his husband-

The thought made the air in Blaine’s bedroom seem thinner and his entire body seem heavy. He scrambled for his phone and called the only number his fingers could think of.

“Blainey? What’s wrong? It’s three in the morning.” Cooper was obviously asleep before Blaine’s call.

“Hey Coop, I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep. Again.” Blaine sighed, leaning back against his headboard and looking up at his ceiling. “I-I don’t want him to be four.”

“Well, you can’t really stop him, Blaine. You aren’t father time.” Cooper said, his wit coming alive, even if it was the middle of the night. “It’s just his forth birthday. He’s not turning eighteen or anything like that. He’s going to be  _four_.”

“I know, Coop, but- he’s gonna need new clothes and school stuff and-”

“And you know that if you need any money, Mom, Dad, and I are all here to give you want you need.” Blaine’s parents might not have been one hundred percent in agreement with Blaine’s life choices, but with the involvement and creation of another human life, they became just a  _bit_  more accepting.

“I know, I just… I’m really scared.” Blaine muttered, putting his free hand over his face and taking a slow, deep breath. “I don’t want to fuck up his childhood. He only has one.”

“Blaine, come on. Luke’s gonna be fine. Don’t- Don’t sweat it, okay?” Cooper’s tone was sincere and not as patronizing as usual. Cooper had been working on getting his ‘advice voice’ to sound as close to Kurt’s as possible. Not that Blaine knew that.

“I can always get another job.” Blaine thought aloud. “I think there’s another club down the street-”

“How about getting a job somewhere  _other_  than a strip club, Blaine? I mean, I know it sounds crazy but, you should try it.” Cooper suggested, sounding less kind and caring.

“That’s none of your business, Cooper.” Blaine said sternly. Blaine had his own reasons for working in shady clubs. It was mostly to insure that he wouldn’t run into anyone from his McKinley days. Blaine didn’t want to be working at a diner or at a coffee shop and have someone like Sam, Rachel, or even Kurt, come walking in and have Blaine’s past confront him without any prior warning. Being in clubs and working in  _that_  part of town kept Blaine safe. It kept him hidden.

“Blaine, you are in your twenties and are a  _stripper_ \- Christ, Blaine! You are a  _father_.” Cooper had Blaine had this argument every few months and calling Cooper while he was sleeping was simply a catalyst. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep sabotaging yourself and your son’s future-”

Blaine hung up the phone before Cooper could say much more. He threw it into the sheets next to him and put his head in his hands. Calling Cooper hadn’t lessened his panic in the slightest, if anything, it just amped it up more. Blaine could now feel his muscles jittering and misfiring as he echoed Cooper’s argument in his mind. Blaine was a single father that was a  _stripper_. Blaine was an embarrassment to Luke. Luke would be ashamed of Blaine for his entire life. Luke would probably hide his girlfriend or boyfriend from Blaine and refuse to have them meet him. It only took Blaine four years to completely fuck up his son’s life-

Blaine’s phone began vibrating next to him and Blaine didn’t bother to read the number or even take a moment to compose himself before answering the phone  _very_  aggressively.

“I do  _not_  want to talk about this anymore, Cooper. Just, drop it, okay?” Blaine hissed into the phone. It was late and Blaine would have  _loved_  to start yelling at Cooper and possibly let out some of his pent up anxiety induced energy, but Luke was sleeping in the room next door and he was reduced to angry whispering.

“B-Blaine? Is that you?”

“Oh! Oh my god- Kurt!” Blaine shot up in bed and clutched the phone with both hands. This had to be a dream, and Blaine was hoping that if he held onto the phone tight enough, he might be able to make Kurt’s voice tangible- bring it into his reality. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me at…” Blaine looked at the clock hanging on the wall. “ _Quarter to four in the morning?”_

“I couldn’t sleep.” Kurt replied, sounding exhausted. “What about you? What are you doing sounding completely awake at three in the morning?”

“The same… I haven’t been sleeping well.” It amused some part inside Blaine that their patterns were still in sync even though they hadn’t slept in the same bed in over three years.

“I’ve been thinking about you since I left for Europe.” Kurt said into the silence. Blaine refused to respond; he didn’t trust himself to say the right thing. He still wasn’t sure if this was a dream or reality. “You, Luke,  _everything_ … I feel like I just  _left_.”

“ _I_  left.” Blaine found the only two words he could contribute to the conversation. “I was the one that left.”

Blaine held his breath as the conversation flat lined and the silence rang between them. Blaine was afraid he had ruined the moment. But then again, if he had, it was a good indication of whether or not he was living in a dream or his real life.

“…If it’s still on the table, Blaine, I’d still like to get coffee with you.” Kurt sounded- for the first time in his life- unsure with Blaine. Usually, Kurt was on the same page with Blaine and was able to gauge his reaction before even uttering a sentence to him. But now, it sounded like he was asking a stranger. And it broke Blaine’s heart.

“Coffee?” Blaine echoed. “You want to get coffee?”

“I mean, if you want to…” Kurt trailed off and began to sound more uncertain of his offer.

“No no! O-Of course! Coffee sounds wonderful.” Blaine could barely contain himself and started scrambling out of bed to try and give his jolting muscles something to do other than spasm.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Kurt’s question wasn't menacing or venomous. He was asking if their meeting would inconvenience him; It had nothing to do with Blaine’s actual job.

“I’m free in the morning. I have work at seven. I’m free all morning.” Blaine answered, a smile tugging at his lips as Kurt sounded pleased with Blaine’s response, like it was all going to work out.

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you at that place on MacDougal Street around noon.”

“Okay… Yeah. I can do that… I’ll see you there.” Blaine had to sit down on the bed when his legs began to wobble. The realization was making Blaine’s entire body feel numb. Kurt was actually setting up a coffee date with Blaine. This hadn’t happened in _four years_.

Four years apart and they were already falling back into the routine of their old lives together.

“Good night, Blaine.” Kurt said warmly, yawning between sentences. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Kurt.”

Blaine remained frozen on the bed with his phone in his hand, needing an extra few minutes to comprehend that it all wasn’t a dream. He was getting coffee with Kurt. He was getting coffee with the love of his life. The love of his life had asked  _him_  to get coffee first. And not one moment of it was a figment of his imagination.

—-

Blaine was being incredibly reckless as he walked to the Tea Spot. He wasn’t watching where he was going as he crossed streets and bumped into any pedestrian that wasn’t rushing down sidewalks. Blaine wanted to get to the Tea Spot as fast as he could and ensure that Kurt didn’t leave, thinking that Blaine had forgotten to show up.

Blaine made sure he was composed and in decent looking condition before he opened the door to the coffee shop. Blaine’s eyes scanned the seats and searched for Kurt. He was sitting in the corner, spinning his coffee cup slowly and staring down at his hands. There was another coffee cup at the empty seat across from Kurt and Blaine was afraid that Kurt had come with Andrew. Blaine stopped walking and went to turn back when Kurt called after him, having already spotted him. Blaine knew he shouldn’t have worn his red Capri pants.

“Blaine! Blaine, come back!” Blaine slowly pivoted on his heels and faced Kurt again, smiling lightly. “I got you coffee. I remembered your coffee order.”

_You know my coffee order?_

_Of course I do._

“Oh, Thanks. I didn’t know you remembered it after all this time.” Blaine muttered to himself, walking back and pulling out the  _empty_ chair and smiling at Kurt.

“I don’t forget easily, Blaine. You know that.” Kurt laughed. “Every day of sophomore year with Rachel Berry is stored away.” He winked, tapping his temple. “She can’t fool me.”

“Oh god, Rachel.” Blaine sighed, thinking about his high school bestie (and sorta half girlfriend). “How is she? How’s Funny Girl?”

“It went well.” Kurt nodded, sipping his coffee. “For the month she did it.”

“ _What_?”

“She left after a month. She said she needed to try different things.” Kurt said, rolling his eyes. “She left Funny Girl, she dropped out of NYADA-”

“She dropped out of  _where_? Are you  _kidding_?” Blaine gasped, covering his mouth. “They accept  _twenty kids a year and she drops. out._  Is she nuts?!” Blaine was in complete shock that someone as intelligent and ambitious as Rachel Barbara Berry would drop out of the school she had been dreaming of going to since she heard the name. “That’s so  _crazy_ … Oh my god…”

“If only you were around for it! Maybe you could’ve convinced her to stay.” Kurt’s hand reached over and touched Blaine’s arm as he smiled. It was his left hand. Blaine noticed the glinting silver ring more than the touch. Kurt retracted his arm slowly and lowered his head. “Lord knows convincing people to stay isn’t my strong suit…”

“ _Kurt._ ” Blaine had been having a simple, light hearted conversation for only a few short minutes, and in those few short minutes, his entire world seemed brighter and less troublesome. Like Blaine wasn’t about to go to work at a degrading strip club, or continuously fret about his son’s future, or even make himself crazy every minute of every day about that one silly Junior boy who wore the wrong jacket to a private school and tried to fit in just to spy on his show choir. Blaine had gone a few minutes without worrying about  _anything_  and he didn’t want Kurt to try and take him back to his raincloud. He wanted to bask in the sun for just a moment longer. “You don’t have to do this… We don’t have to talk about this.”

“No. We do. It’s why I called you here. We  _have_  to talk about this.” Kurt said, taking a steady breath and looking back up at Blaine. “I want to talk to you about us- about what happened.”

“I don’t want to.” Blaine said stiffly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yes you do.” Kurt corrected, reading Blaine’s mind. “There’s nothing _else_  you want to talk about. You just don’t want to hurt my feelings by saying things that you  _think_  will offend me.”

“What are you talking-”

“Andrew. You don’t want to talk about Andrew.” Blaine lowered his gaze to his coffee cup as Kurt threw his husband into the conversation. “See? I know.”

It’s not that Blaine was going to say things about Andrew that would offend Kurt or hurt his feelings; Blaine had nothing against Andrew. He made Kurt happy. But Blaine did too. The only problem Blaine had with Andrew was that he was permanent. A husband is forever. A fiancé can be disposed of, but a husband is final. Kurt was the one that got away and Andrew was the one that was able to catch him. Blaine wasn’t in loathing of Andrew; he was in loathing of the finality of his existence in Kurt’s life. The finality Blaine never got.

“I think Andrew is a great guy.” Blaine forced himself to smile and look back up into Kurt’s flattering stare. Blaine sunk back into his chair and felt the need to catch his breath. After not being exposed to it for almost four years, Kurt’s stare made Blaine’s heart flutter in the most dangerous way- It was like the butterflies had migrated up to his heart and were causing a body jolting arrhythmia.

“Dad told me about you being at my wedding.” Kurt said, holding Blaine’s eye contact. “He told me that you were with Luke in the park. He said you looked a little upset-”

“I was at your  _wedding_  of course I was upset!” Blaine felt his fingers curl around his coffee cup as he ducked his head and took a deep breath. He hadn’t intended to explode so suddenly and uncharacteristically at Kurt. His firm grip was broken by a hand prying his hand away and squeezing it gently.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Kurt muttered, stroking the top of Blaine’s hand with his thumb. “I want you to be angry. I don’t want you to just  _give in_ , Blaine. Be angry. Be angry at me for not listening to you and thinking that if I broke your heart first I wouldn’t get hurt. Be angry at all of us for not finding you sooner. Be angry at  _everything_ , you just do not get to be angry at yourself. None of this is your fault, Blaine.”

“I left the apartment. All you did was take off your ring and say a few short fragmented sentence that all seemed angry and final and I packed up my shit and  _left_. How is it not my fault?” Blaine asked, feeling his lip quiver. “I was three months pregnant when I left. I endangered the life of  _our baby_  by leaving with no money, no job,  _nothing_! I left without any warning, leaving you in pieces and completely fucking up  _our child’s future._  I made this mess all on my own. Explain to me how it’s not  _my_ fault.”

Kurt nodded, and remained silent, knowing that saying anything else would just seem like he was invalidating Blaine’s feelings. Instead, he stroked Blaine’s hand and lifted it up to his lips and kissed the tops of his hand gently.

“I don’t think it’s your fault.” Kurt said softly, easing them out of the silence. “I don’t blame either of us.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked, gripping Kurt’s hand and willing him to hold onto it for just a minute longer.

  
“I think we were both really scared. You were scared for so many reasons and had every right to be so. And, to be honest, I think I knew those reasons the whole time. I think I knew what was going on, I just didn’t really  _think_  about it. I didn’t think it could be real… I didn’t want to think for a moment that there was something about you that I just  _didn’t know_. I was afraid you’d think I had stopped paying attention to you- that I wasn’t the same Kurt Hummel that read your mind before you could even open your mouth to voice any insecurities about your body in the middle of sex or the Kurt Hummel that knew  _just_ what to say to make things right. I saw that look on your face and I had no idea what it was that you were going to say and I panicked. We both did. We were in two separate conversation- How can one of us be to blame if we weren’t even arguing with each other?” Kurt finished his speech and let out a long, calming sigh before cracking a smile and quietly laughing to himself. “I have been practicing that speech for four years and I  _never_ thought I’d get the chance to say it.”

“It sounded wonderful.” Blaine whispered, not willing his voice to go much louder incase his voice cracked and gave away the tears pooling in his eyes. “It’s exactly how I imagined it would go.”

“What? Me reciting a well thought out heartfelt tangent and you crying into a medium drip? Blaine, don’t tell me your romantic side has been washed away by changing diapers and singing lullabies.” Blaine smiled at Kurt and noticed there were tears in Kurt’s eyes as well. They both smiled at each other and continued to hold each other’s gaze while they giggled at the hilarity of what the situation had come to- What their lives had become:

Blaine was a stripper. They were both fathers. Their son was four. Kurt was married to someone other than Blaine. Kurt still thought about Blaine during his European honeymoon. Blaine still thought about Kurt every single moment of every single day. Kurt’s husband had no idea Blaine even existed.

It seemed unreal. Never in a million years would Blaine have put money on the outcome of his twenties to be  _that_. If only high school Blaine could see him now. He’d be so shocked.

“How is Luke?” Kurt asked, once he composed himself and settled his hand more comfortably inside Blaine’s. “Is he doing okay?”

“He’s doing fine. His birthday is Saturday and we’re having a small little party at Cooper’s place in the city since my house isn’t up to my building’s fire code-”

“Wait- a party?” Kurt echoed. “A birthday party?”

“Yeah. He’s turning four.”

“C-Can I come?” Kurt asked slowly, his words belabored and hesitant. “I can bring the whole group- It can be a nice little reunion and you can see Rachel again! And Mercedes- Oh and Tina! Or Sam! I can bring Sam!” Kurt was rambling faster and faster, seemingly trying to persuade Blaine to let him show up at  _his son’s_  party.

“Kurt, stop.” Blaine lifted his hand and touched Kurt’s lips with the tip of his pointer finger carefully. “Of course you can come.”

“Really?” Kurt whispered, his face lighting up. “Oh this will be fantastic- Oh I can’t wait to meet him! Oh, thank you, Blaine. Thank you thank you thank you!” Kurt cried, clapping his hands. He spouted another few hundred thank yous as he bounced in his seat, eventually leaning over, grabbing Blaine by the sides of the face, and kissing him upon instinct.

And even though Blaine felt the cold sting of Kurt’s wedding ring against his cheek, he still kissed back.


	5. Identical

“Rachel! You will not  _believe_  what I just did!” Kurt panted, busting in the loft’s open door and practically tripping over his own feet and into the dining table.

“Kurt. I know you just had lunch with Andrew, but I am seriously  _not_ interested in that.” She said flippantly, shaking her head and putting up her hands before going back to her magazine.

“ _No_ \- oh my god, Rachel! That is  _not_  what I- No! I didn’t go to lunch with Andrew. I had coffee with Blaine.” Kurt corrected her, placing his hand over the article she was reading and forcing her to look back up at him.

“Blaine? You mean like, ten-bucks-a-lap-dance, stripper Blaine? The Blaine you broke up with?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows- which were well sculpted thanks to Kurt’s anxiety induced, binge makeover-ing at four in the morning the night before.

“Yes!  _That_ Blaine- I only know one!” Kurt hissed, growing impatient.

“Well, I’m  _sorry_.” She sighed, glaring at him. “I didn’t know strippers got coffee in the light of day. Sam told me he worked on a strictly nocturnal schedule when he was one.” She replied bitterly, pursing her lips and slapping Kurt’s hand away from her magazine daintily.

“ _Rachel_.” Kurt practically shouted. “I need you to focus on me for _one second_. I only need you to focus on someone other than yourself and,” Kurt read the title of the article. “Patti Lupone for  _one second_.”

Rachel’s glare drug itself slowly from her magazine up to Kurt’s face- she didn’t even look him in the eyes. “Yes, Kurt? What is it?”

“I kissed Blaine.” After Kurt had let the sentence hang in the air, refusing to follow it up with anything and decrease the severity of the situation, Rachel’s expression neutralized and froze before snapping alive and her eyes widening as she stood.

“You did  _what_?!” Rachel screamed. “Kurt! Oh my god! You are not allowed to do that! Oh my god!  _I can’t believe you did that-_ ”

“Did what?”

Kurt felt his words die in his throat as Andrew’s voice entered their conversation from behind him.

“I go to wash my hands for three seconds and I hear you and Rachel screaming at the top of your lungs. Again.” He laughed, rolling his eyes lovingly at the pair still frozen in a state of panic, fear, and surprise. “What did you do, Kurt?”

“Nothing.” Kurt responded quickly. “Just, stupid things. Very stupid things.” Kurt mumbled, looking over at Rachel.

“What was it?” He asked again. Kurt shook his head frantically. “Come on, you can’t tell Rachel and not me. I’m your husband.” Andrew tugged on Kurt’s arm and kissed his cheek as he begged. Kurt didn’t even notice, he was too busy staring at Rachel and wiling for her to help him.

“Actually, Kurt can.” Rachel responded quickly and strangely matter-of-factly. “We are best friends- like brother and sister.”

“ _Wait_.” Kurt said, whipping his head back to Rachel and putting his hand out to stop her, before realizing he  _wasn’t_ helping his cause. “ _More_  than brother and sister.”

“Like a married couple!” Rachel cried, slapping the table as she realized a new analogy.

“ _Rachel_.” Kurt sighed, covering his face with his hands. “Andrew and I  _are_  a married couple.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Rachel muttered, making an awkward expression before slowly going back to her magazine.

“Okay, now you  _have_  to tell me.” Andrew said, folding his arms across his chest. “What did you do?”

Kurt stood rigid, frozen where he stood, half yelling at Rachel across the table and half dying of embarrassment. He racked his brain for something to cover up his secret with. Even as the perfect lie came to Kurt, he realized he couldn’t lie to Andrew; he was too naïve and oblivious. Kurt felt like he was abusing their two week marriage. Kurt knew he had to tell the truth. Or at least, part of it.

“I got invited to the birthday party for the son of one of Rachel’s old high school friends. It’s this Saturday.” Kurt replied finally, looking at Rachel with murderous eyes. All she had to do was agree. “I just bumped into him on the street.”

“No way!” Andrew smiled, taking the bait with no resistance. “That’s so awesome- and coincidental! You two  _have_  to go!”

“What? Why?” Rachel asked, looking completely surprised by Andrew’s response. Kurt was hoping that Rachel had listened to Kurt’s  _whole_  sentence and hadn’t assumed Kurt had told Andrew the complete truth. Kurt did not need Rachel telling Andrew all the reasons why they  _shouldn’t_  and watching his entire past relationship history be spilled out onto the table. “We haven’t seen him in four years!”

“So? He obviously remembers you- and likes you enough- to invite you to his son’s party- even after all this time!” Andrew grinned. “You can’t say no!”

“You’re right.” Kurt nodded. “I really couldn’t.” Especially not when Kurt was the one  _who asked to go_.

“We should all go!” Andrew gasped, clapping his hands together and grinning.

“We?” Kurt echoed. He did  _not_  like how inclusive ‘we’ sounded. “You want to go?”

“Of course! I want to get to know all your friends! We’re married now- your friends are my friends.” Kurt quietly noted the incorrectness of Andrew statement and thought on how many levels Blaine was  _not_  Andrew’s friend. “I’m very excited to meet everyone!”

“And they’re excited to meet you. I can’t wait.” Kurt kept his smile plastered on his face until Andrew passed them and continued into his and Kurt’s bedroom. Kurt slowly turned to Rachel, his eyes wide and searching for an answer.

Rachel put her hand up and ignored Kurt’s frantic expression. “You asked for  _one second_  of my time.  _One_  second.”

  
Kurt sighed and let his head hang down and rest on the table top; He was totally screwed.

And not in the same way he was last week on his honeymoon.

—-

Blaine woke up on an unfamiliar couch and an oddly  _familiar_  hand pushing his shoulder gently, attempting to wake him. Blaine rolled over quickly and grabbed onto the hand, hoping it was the same person who had just appeared to him in his dream. But it wasn’t. It was Cooper.

“Rise and shine, Dad.” Cooper sang, ruffling Blaine’s hair.

“I’m still not okay with you calling me that.” Blaine groaned, pulling the couch cushion over his face. “It sounds weird coming from you.”

“Oh shut it and get up.” Cooper laughed, pushing Blaine off the couch. “And stop being a lazy bum. Even your  _son_  is awake.”

“Fuck off.” Blaine groaned, rolling onto his stomach and pressing his cheek into the cold wood floor. “I’m still kind of a teenager.”

“You’re twenty-two.” Cooper snorted, kicking Blaine softly in the leg. “And you have a four year son. You are  _not_  a teenager… Although,” Cooper hummed, sounding pensive and  _very_  sarcastic. ”if you mean by teenager, you mean still madly in love with the same, one and only Kurt Hummel, then yes. You  _are_  a teenager.”

“Shut up, Cooper!” Blaine whined, putting his arms over his head. “Please tell me I wasn’t talking in my sleep.” Cooper’s silence only caused Blaine to groan louder and attempt to hide himself underneath the floor boards. “Fuck.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Blaine.” Cooper assured him with a smothered giggle. “At least you’ll get to see him again today.”

“Yeah… I do.” Blaine smiled to himself and let his eyes close again slowly.

“Hey! No dreamy sighing! And definitely no sleeping!” Cooper placed a cup of coffee by Blaine’s head on the floor. “It’s already eight! Get your ass up we need to decorate.”

“Hey! This ass is paying for all those decorations.” Blaine retorted, sitting up and stretching his arms up over his head and yawning. “Cut it some slack, alright.”

Blaine’s previous night at work had been particularly exhausting. There was a group of barely legal  _boys_  harassing him all night and asking for drinks and lap dances and certain songs every time Blaine tried to take a minute to breathe and call Sophia and see how Luke was doing. Blaine was so busy with the obnoxious teenagers that he eventually had to call Cooper to pick up Luke since Blaine knew he wouldn’t have been able to pay for Sophia’s overtime. Hence Blaine waking up on Cooper’s couch. Now Blaine remembered; But Blaine still preferred his dream better.

At least in his dream he took his clothes off for some other reason than money.

—-

Kurt was standing outside number D9, hand raised hesitantly to the door. Rachel was hovering on his right side, Andrew consuming most of the empty space to his left; he was trapped. If he didn’t knock soon, or at all, he’d have to start explaining. Kurt glanced over at Andrew and saw the pure excitement on his face, and made his fist hit the door three times, neatly knocking on the door. Kurt heard Cooper call to them, asking for their patience, and both Kurt and Rachel looked at each other before rolling their eyes. Finally, after an agonizingly silent minute, the door was practically ripped off its hinges as Cooper opened it.

“Hey! I’m sorry, I was hanging streamers and almost broke my leg trying to get- Who is this?” Cooper asked suddenly, his eyes scanning over Andrew and examining the arm that was around Kurt’s shoulders and the wedding rings on their fingers.

“This is my husband, Andrew.” Kurt replied stiffly, leaning into Andrew’s side and giving Cooper a warning look.

“Husband? Wow. Congratulations, Kurt. That’s awesome.” Cooper’s voice was friendly and warm, but his expression looked pained and hurt. “I am so happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Kurt said awkwardly, shifting on his feet. Cooper kept them standing in the doorway for an extra ten seconds of ringing silence before his hurt expression and deep concentration broke and he realized the next socially appropriate step; He stepped aside and waved them inside.

“Come on in. Make yourselves at home while I find the little guy. And Luke.”

—-

Blaine was helping Luke style his hair for the third time when Cooper all but kicked the door in, his face red and upper lip sweaty.

“Kurt’s married.” He shout-whispered, closing the door behind him carefully.

“Yes. I know.” Blaine said, still smiling at his son and adjusting his shirt collar. “I’m pretty sure I told you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t remember until  _now_.” Copper panicked, kneeling next to Blaine and gripping his forearm. “Blaine. Do you remember that sports guy, Andrew Banana whatever?”

“Andrew Buchanan? The freelance sports journalist you constantly make fun of whenever you see his name?  _That_  Andrew Buchanan?” Blaine laughed, kissing Luke on the nose and lifting him up and resting him on his hip. “What about him?”

“He’s currently standing  _in my foyer_!” Cooper said through gritted teeth.

“Andrew Buchanan is standing in your- wait.” Blaine stopped cooing over his son for a moment as he realized what Cooper was implying, even in his hectic state of mind. “Is Kurt’s husband Andrew Buchanan?”

Once again, Cooper answered Blaine with silence. Blaine felt his stomach unsettle and find itself closer to Blaine’s feet while his heart decided to find residency in his throat. Kurt had married a _sports journalist_. Kurt married someone that was the complete opposite of his previous patterns of attraction. Physicality aside, Kurt was usually attracted to people who shared his interests and were involved in the same field as him; Kurt enjoyed being able to have in depth conversations about things that he took seriously. Not many people would consider the drastic expressive difference between navy and cobalt blue to be interesting, but Kurt did. And Blaine somehow doubted Andrew’s interest in color swatches and their effect on the room’s ambiance. Blaine worried that Kurt’s tastes had changed. Maybe Kurt was looking for something different and exhilarating, and here Blaine was, having almost identical interests and passions as Kurt- but all by coincidence. That had to mean  _something_ , Blaine hoped.

Blaine hitched Luke higher on his hip before passing Cooper and going towards the door. He slowly walked down the hallway, careful to make his footsteps virtually inaudible, although his chattering son made it impossible to approach the foyer quietly.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Who’s here! Is it Grandpa? Is Grandpa here?” Luke chirped, bouncing happily.

“No, this isn’t Grandpa. This is one of Daddy’s friends.” Blaine replied, keeping his eyes focused at the end of the hallway. He could already hear Kurt’s voice, his laugh making his head swim and make his entire body feel lighter and his mind intoxicated by nostalgia.

“Found them.” Cooper called, walking ahead of them. “Here’s the man of the day!” Copper put his arms out and offered to take Luke, but Blaine shook his head and kept his son close to his chest.

“Daddy? D-Daddy?” Luke whispered, tugging on Blaine’s sweater lapel. “Daddy.”

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Blaine pried his eyes away from Kurt, who was gawking at Luke, his hand clutching Rachel’s tightly and entire body unnaturally still. Blaine didn’t even see Kurt’s chest rising and falling with any sign of breathing. He was completely frozen and completely in shock.

“Daddy? Is that the boy from the pictures?” He whispered into Blaine’s ear, his hand holding the shell of his ear while the other cupped his mouth in secret. Luke recognized his own father. He remembered Kurt. It took him four or five times to successfully remember Cooper, but he knew Kurt. He knew Kurt and  _where_  he knew him from. Blaine couldn’t help but feel his chest swell with a sense of victory; Andrew didn’t have _anything_  close to the minor-miracle of a four year old recognizing his other father from only a few high school pictures.

“Yes, Luke. This is the man from all those picture I have.” Blaine nodded, grinning at Luke and turning back to look at Kurt. Luke leaned back in Blaine’s sweater before nervously waving at Kurt, and absolutely lighting up when Kurt waved back.

“Hi.” Luke whispered, grinning shyly.

“Hi, Luke. Happy Birthday!” Kurt breathed, his voice faint and unsteady. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. You look adorable.” Kurt’s eyes were fixated on Luke and no one else. Rachel tried to tickle Luke’s tiny feet and make her own connection with him, but Kurt blocked her out and allowed the two of them to keep eye contact with each other, like there was no one else. Luke definitely recognized Kurt, and Kurt was most definitely in utter disbelief of the  _carbon copy_  of himself in Blaine’s arms. Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off Luke. And for Blaine, it was the only man he was pleased to see Kurt giving attention to. His son.  _Their son_.

“Hey, Kurt?” Andrew asked, nudging his shoulder and shattering the connection Kurt was attempting to make with Luke. “Is it just me or does that kid look  _just_  like you?”


	6. Are You My Mommy?

“Do you mind if I have a seat?”

Blaine blinked slowly and broke his gaze away from Kurt and Luke, sitting on the floor, fiddling with trinkets and blocks while they chatted happily about what Blaine assumed to be  _adorable_  things. He turned his head and looked up at Andrew, who was hovering next to the empty couch seat to Blaine’s left. There was a perfectly free and  _empty_  arm chair and love seat on the other side of the room. If Andrew wanted to play this game, then by all means, Blaine was ready to play.

“Sure, take a seat.” Blaine smiled, moving a bit more to his right.

“Thanks.” Andrew said, sitting down and sighing as he leaned back and  _completely_  made himself at home. Blaine tried not to irrationally become annoyed at the simple actions Andrew was taking to just sit down and relax. Blaine really tried, but the way Andrew was watching Kurt was making it  _very_  difficult to keep Blaine’s temper in check. Blaine cleared his throat and turned to Andrew, ready to start conversation and get Andrew to stop  _staring_.

“So. You married Kurt.”  _Oh my **god** , Blaine. Shut up_.

“I did.” Andrew laughed, giving Blaine an amused smile. “That I did.”

“That sounds exciting.” Blaine was struggling to keep the conversation afloat. He didn’t know what to say; he had to keep the conversation going smoothly and naturally, but he didn’t want to learn more. “H-How did you guys meet? I mean, do you live in New York or did you move here too?” Blaine plastered a smile on his face and waited with baited breath for Andrew to respond; he was hoping he didn’t look psychotic.

“I did move here.” Andrew replied happily, not even remotely noticing Blaine’s panic sweats or Kurt’s side-eyeing from his spot on the floor. “I moved here from Detroit, Michigan. I lived there until I was about twenty-three; I went to college at Michigan State. I played for their football team.”

“No shit.” Blaine said, laughing softly. Kurt married a  _football player._

“I did. I was on the football team until I realized I really  _couldn’t_ live my whole life just playing football, so I left the team and went into journalism to still have my sports career, but in a safer, more practical way.” Blaine was a bit disappointed by Andrew’s response; he actually thought a situation through. He was a lot smarter than Blaine had originally thought. There might actually be redeeming qualities to Kurt’s husband. “But, once I was a journalist, I figured I needed to be in a city, so I packed up my stuff and moved to New York. Then I lived here for about three years before I met Kurt.” Blaine didn’t like how there was no middle for Andrew between moving and meeting Kurt. It made Blaine form the impression that Andrew was two dimensional and uninteresting. But, Blaine knew Kurt wouldn’t go for that type of guy, so the thought slipped away and left Blaine to stumble for more conversation.

“So, Michigan, huh? They’ve got a good team. What position did you play?”

“I was the kicker.” Well, at least they had something in common.

“Wait. The kicker? What are you, like six five?!” Blaine asked, remembering how Andrew had towered over him when they first shook hands.

“Six two, actually. How about you?” Blaine furrowed his eyebrows at Andrew as he reciprocated the height inquiry. It was obvious he didn’t get Blaine’s confusion; the kicker was supposed to be the smallest player on the team. “You seem a bit, close to the floor…” Andrew noted Blaine’s cuffed jeans; an allusion to give his legs more ‘length’.

“Yeah, I’m kind of a shorter guy. I’m like two feet tall.” Blaine said, trying to sound amused by the comment. There were only two people who had permission to make comments on Blaine’s height: Cooper, because he’s  _constantly_  chuffed that his younger brother will never be taller than him; and Kurt, because Blaine has had to ask Kurt to get things for him on the top shelves in the choir room or in the locker room if they hid his clothes. That was it. Not even his son was allowed- though, when his son undoubtedly grew to surpass five foot seven, his name would be added to the list. Blaine wasn’t sure if Andrew was just trying to be friendly or piss Blaine off intentionally.

“Two feet? Really?” Andrew raised an eyebrow and seemed vaguely unamused by Blaine’s choice of words.

“Oh I’m sorry.” Blaine said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “In all of your years of sports journalism have you never run across a hyperbole?” Blaine saw Kurt’s head turn slowly towards the two of them, ready to respond or cut in, but it returned when Rachel started talking louder to regain his attention.

“Ouch, snarky. I like it.” Andrew laughed, clapping Blaine on the leg. “You remind me a lot of Kurt… Are you sure you really don’t know him all that well?” Blaine’s head began frantically digging through the past few days to find the lie which was covering why Kurt and Blaine weren’t supposed to be closer friends. Kurt subtly reached over and touched Rachel’s shoulder, throwing a glance at Blaine.

“Oh, yeah! Rachel!” Blaine gasped, turning back to Andrew excitedly and grinning. “We were mostly friends of the same friends; I was mostly friends with Rachel back in high school. She was my girlfriend for like, a week. It was crazy. And weird.” Blaine chuckled, shaking his head and smiling at Rachel when she peered over at him at the sound of her name.

“Rachel? Oh. Really? Kurt never mentioned you were bi.” Andrew said bluntly, making Blaine’s entire body tense up as an exercise to check and make sure he  _hadn’t_  fallen asleep and dreamed their conversation. And Andrew’s response.

Did Andrew  _only_ get information from Kurt? And why would Blaine’s sexuality be in discussion? Did Andrew  _interrogate Kurt_  about Blaine before coming here? Or has Kurt spoken about Blaine before? Blaine kept his face calm as he trudged through a reply.

“OH! I’m not- I’m totally,  _totally_  gay.” Blaine could hear Cooper attempt to hide his sudden outburst of laughter as he heard Blaine’s horrible reply and  _terrible_  voice crack. “I just, had one of those denial phases. You know, everyone does.” Blaine was hoping he’d appeal to Andrew’s ‘straight jock’ side.

“Well, I didn’t. Kurt didn’t either.” Blaine wasn’t sure why Andrew felt the need to mention Kurt’s past, but he just went with it… Until he realized that Kurt  _did_  have a denial phase. And he dated Brittany. And Andrew  _didn’t know_.

Oh, the game just got so much more interesting.

“Right… Of course.” Blaine mumbled quietly, nodding. “Say, do you ever go to Michigan football games? I mean, do you ever see a college football game?”

“Oh man, I love college football! We both do!” Andrew’s grin was far too wide for him to be joking.

“ _We_?” Blaine repeated. “Who’s ‘we’? You and Kurt?” Blaine inquired slowly.

“Yeah! We always go together when I can score three tickets.” Andrew nodded, still remaining completely enthralled by Blaine’s line of questioning- he just really loved talking about Kurt. Which Blaine supposed was a good thing. Well, just not for Blaine.

“T-Three?” Blaine actually took a minute to count on his fingers before confirming that there was in fact not a third person in their party- unless they counted Rachel.

“Three, you know. One extra, for Burt.” Andrew replied, as if it was a no brainer.

“Burt?” Blaine echoed, completely shocked by Burt’s willingness to just  _go to Michigan with his son’s husband_   _for college football_. How did Burt not see anything wrong with Kurt attending college football? Was Blaine missing something? “Burt Hummel?”

“Yeah! It’s Kurt’s dad.” Andrew patronized Blaine  _accidentally_ , he supposed. He didn’t seem like he was trying to point out the fact that Blaine ‘didn’t know anyone’ in Kurt’s family. He just sounded too ‘informed’ for his own good. He sounded like he was bragging, which was not a feeling Blaine liked having projected onto him. He didn’t like being gloated to.

“Wait, Andrew.” Blaine put his hand up halting Andrew’s attempt to start a new line of conversation. “Quick question.”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?” Andrew folded his hands in his lap casually as he waited for Blaine to speak.

“Do you have a preference on desserts? Cooper is an avid baker- as of like, last year- and made a bunch of dessert options. He made vanilla cupcakes, a small cheesecake-”

“Oh, I don’t eat cheesecake.” Andrew cut Blaine off with a disgusted, scrunched nose and furious head shake. “Kurt and I both don’t like that.”

_Kurt and I._

Andrew had just finished telling Blaine that Kurt didn’t like cheesecake. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel  _didn’t like cheesecake_. That was an honest to God fact that Andrew believed- and was trying to feed Blaine.

“Right. I forgot. Kurt hates cheesecake.” Blaine muttered just loud enough for Kurt to hear. “I keep forgetting how much Kurt dislikes dessert foods and basic life indulgences.”

Blaine almost laughed uttering the sentence. Sure, Kurt watched his weight and was very rigorous in his exercise since he took pride in his appearance, but Kurt also loved enjoying himself and eating a ‘bad food’ every once in a while. Kurt wasn’t a robot. He didn’t just work out, eat salads, and hate everything. Kurt was a well balanced, level headed human being. But the more Andrew spoke, the more Blaine doubted Andrew  _knew that_.

Blaine was beginning to doubt Andrew knew  _anything_  about Kurt.

“It amazes me how much Luke looks like his mom.” Andrew sighed in amazement, leaning his head on his hands and observing the small child giggling between Kurt and Rachel. Blaine was second away from nodding agreement when he realized what parent pronoun he had used: Mom.

“Luke’s mom?” Blaine felt slightly idiotic by the number of times he repeated Andrew’s sentences during their conversation, but it just seemed appropriate. He was hoping in saying it back to him, Andrew would hear how utterly _stupid_  he sounded and would correct his error. But there was no error. He said mom, and he meant it.

“Yeah, Rachel.” Andrew began to sound suspicious. He turned his head towards Blaine and had a concerned expression- an expression that caused Blaine’s heart to leap to his throat and induce panic. “Rachel  _is_  his mom, right?”

“Oh yeah! I just- sometimes the title of ‘mom’ still sounds weird for Rachel. I mean, she doesn’t really  _look_  like a mom, ya know? She’s still my… beautiful Rachel.” Blaine gritted through a forced smile.

“She is beautiful. I will give you that.” Andrew agreed, his eyes shifting over and falling on Rachel as she clutched her heart and bent over laughing, her smile practically taking up her entire face. “Lucky guy.”

“Definitely.” Blaine grumbled, standing. “Luckiest man on the fucking planet.” Blaine brushed off his jeans and readjusted his sweater before walking over to the conversation forming between Cooper, Rachel, and Kurt while Luke played on the floor between them all, slowly following the conversation. Blaine stood by Cooper, who immediately tugged him down and put his arm around his shoulders. Blaine counted down the seconds until Andrew was sitting next to Kurt, doing the exact same but adding in a chaste kiss to the cheek.

“-So wait, wait, wait. You met Blaine  _where_?” Cooper laughed, clutching Blaine’s arm for support. “You did not seriously meet my little brother at work.” Cooper almost toppled over when Rachel nodded at him.

“Work?” Andrew asked, innocently intruding on them. “Where do you work?”

Blaine had no response. He worked at a gay strip club called The _ **Banana Sling**_. There was no getting around his job. If he said the name- or even avoided the question- he’d become so translucent. He’d have to admit for the first time in front of his son where he worked.

“A produce place.” Kurt cut in, looking at Blaine. “I ran into Blaine while I was doing our food shopping, Andrew.” Kurt slipped his hand into Andrew’s and kissed his cheek before smiling brightly at him. Blaine was almost positive Kurt had done it as some form of uncalled for PDA, but Blaine took notice to the way Andrew’s attention jumped from the conversation- and Blaine- to Kurt and only Kurt; Kurt was distracting Andrew in the best way he knew how. And Blaine knew all too well how wonderfully skilled Kurt was at distracting someone from something he didn’t want them to see.

“I have to admit though, Blaine,” Rachel continued, her voice lowering and her hand reaching over and touching his leg for a purposefully  _long_ , awkward, and (presumably) intentionally mock intimate moment. “You looked  _amazing_.” She finished, laughing.

“OH! Thank you, Rachel!” Blaine felt his entire body relax as he sighed in relief. “Thank you very much. I tried  _really_  hard to keep my body the way it was pre-baby.” Blaine replied honestly, although he was using a tone that kept everything smiling and laughing. It was still funny just  _how_  everyone came back together. The situation was made no less funny by Blaine’s new information.

“I was really surprised though. Like, you don’t even have a single stretch mark.” Rachel continued, playfully prodding Blaine’s stomach. “Not a _single_  one.”

“You don’t understand, Rachel. I tried everything except calling up Quinn Fabray to ask how  _she_  avoided them- I ate every ‘super food’, used every lotion- I did  _everything_. And I’m  _so glad_  it worked out.” Blaine winked, putting his arms on his hips and striking a pose for Rachel. Of course it was this time that Andrew rejoined the conversation; just in time for him to watch Blaine wink at Rachel. His apparent  _wife_  of the evening.

“You amaze me, Blaine Anderson.” Rachel chuckled, touching his leg again. “Only you can avoid stretch marks, have a baby, and still be able to become a stripper. And a successful one at that.” Blaine was mid leg cross when his entire body turned to stone and his eyes darted and fell to Kurt, who was just as surprised. He didn’t have enough time to distract Andrew or enough telepathy with Rachel to help her talk her way out of it. “I mean, everyone there  _loved_  you-”

“ _Rachel!_ ” Kurt hissed, slapping her leg. “Rachel, shut up.”

“But, all I’m saying is that-”

“ _Rachel_!” Kurt shouted, startling everyone. “I don’t think anyone really wants to hear about that. It’s just a  _produce_   _store_.”

“No, no. Let her finish. I’m interested, Kurt.” Andrew replied, turning towards Kurt and leaning into his side, ignoring Kurt’s tightening jaw and disgruntled sigh. “Go ahead, Rachel. Don’t listen to him. Talk about your boyfriend.”

“Blaine’s not my boyfriend.” Rachel snorted, covering her mouth politely. “I mean, he’s cute and everything, but Blaine’s gay. And he’s a father.”

“But, aren’t you a  _mother_?” Andrew asked, looking around at everyone, as if it was a hoax. “Right?” He was asking Kurt more than anyone else. Cooper’s grip began to cut off the circulation in Blaine’s leg as they both anxiously waited for Kurt’s reply.

“Andrew, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?” Kurt muttered, putting his hands on the ground as he began to stand up.

“No.” Andrew rebutted quickly, grabbing Kurt’s arm and keeping him from standing. His eyes had narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he glared at everyone in the circle, his eyes remaining on Blaine for a second longer than Blaine would’ve liked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Andrew-”

“Tell me, Kurt.” Andrew demanded, tugging on Kurt’s arm. “ _What aren’t you telling me?_ ” Kurt ducked his head down and avoided Andrew’s gaze, but instead made accidental eye contact with the petrified and silent Luke.

“Andrew, I think we should talk about this somewhere  _else_.” Andrew remained still and silently challenged Kurt’s hushed request. “Andrew, get up.” Kurt whispered through his clenched teeth. “Andrew, I am  _not_  doing this in front of my son.”


	7. Will You Respect Me After

“How long have they been in there?” Cooper asked quietly, bouncing Luke on his knee, being sure to not sound distressed or worried as to keep Luke in his usual chipper mood. “It’s  _easily_  been an hour.”

“It’s been two, actually.” Rachel corrected, pulling on the hem of her dress and flattening the fabric along her lap nervously. “They’ve been fighting for almost two hours.”

Rachel sounded worried- but not  _alarmed_  by the length of time they had been gone. It wasn’t until Blaine realized that Rachel and Kurt still lived together that Blaine knew just how  _average_  this scene must’ve been to her. Blaine wasn’t assuming that Kurt and Andrew fought constantly, but by the look on Rachel’s paled face, she was definitely used to this situation: The sitting, waiting, and listening.

Blaine kept trying to catch parts of their conversation, but it was all in hushed whispers. At least they were being courteous and not shouting at the top of their lungs, fighting about the hidden son that Kurt  _accidently_  revealed he had in a moment of intense frustration and panic. Blaine honestly thought one of them would be dead by now- and by one of them, Blaine meant Andrew. Angry Kurt is not someone you walk away from unscathed.

“Should we go check on them?” Cooper asked, biting his lip as he craned his neck to hopefully see into the kitchen. “I don’t like how quiet it is.”

“ _DON’T FUCKING PUSH ME, KURT._ ”

“I take that back.” Cooper muttered, bringing Luke closer to his chest and kissing the top of his head. “Though I still think we should do something.  _Anything_.”

“I’ll see what’s going on.” Blaine volunteered, standing from his seat and gripping the bottom of his sweater nervously as he shuffled slowly towards the kitchen.

Blaine wasn’t sure what would greet him when he rounded the corner, but his anxious, spiraling thoughts halted as he heard the shattering of glass and pained yelp from beyond the living room.

“ _Kurt_!” Blaine cried, suddenly breaking into a sort of sprint, only taking four long strides before he arrived in the kitchen, finding Kurt crouched by his kitchen cabinets, arms over his head and face pressed against his knees. “Kurt?” His head peaked up from his cocoon and seemed relieved to see Blaine- And only Blaine. Andrew was no where to be seen, though Blaine could hear heavy footsteps outside in the hallway. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Kurt assured him, relaxing from his rigid position and leaning back against the cabinet. “I was just- I heard glass crack and I ducked.” Blaine wasn’t about to inquire as to  _why_  Kurt ducked. He found the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to hear the reason. “Oh,  _shit_.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Blaine responded urgently, kneeling next to Kurt.

“Look.” Kurt sighed, lifting a (shaking) hand to point out a fallen picture frame by the door. “Cooper’s picture frame broke. I’m sorry.” Kurt crawled over to the glass frame broken by the front door, picked it up cautiously, before back tracking and sitting down next to Blaine. He held the frame in his hands and lifted the picture from the frame, avoiding its glass teeth.

It was a picture of Blaine- still pregnant with Luke- giving the camera a mock annoyed, scrunched up expression, as he held a cardboard box; Cooper had taken it when Blaine was helping Cooper move into his New York apartment that was relatively close to Blaine’s. Blaine honestly didn’t know why Cooper had the picture hung by the door in his kitchen.

“God, that picture is terrible.” Blaine laughed, reaching over to take it from Kurt.

“I like it.” He rebutted, pulling back. “You look so…  _young_.”

“I look ridiculous. I’m as big as a house.” Blaine disagreed. “I don’t even know why Cooper has this picture.” Blaine didn’t let  _anyone_ take a picture of him when he was pregnant; the picture might be the only one in existence, showing proof that Blaine was even ever pregnant.

“You look beautiful.” Kurt said, smiling at the picture and turning to grin at Blaine. The moment Kurt turned and met his gaze, Blaine felt his rebuttal disappear and become replace with a breathy, nervous sigh.

Blaine could feel himself getting flustered under Kurt’s flattering stare, but he couldn’t- and didn’t want to- look away. He had missed the way Kurt’s gaze had made his heart flutter in his chest, the way his toes would curl and hands ball into fists as he tried to control his blushing and nervous smiling, the way Kurt’s single look could convince him that Kurt loved him with every fiber of his being and would  _never_  love anyone else the same way.

Blaine tried to appropriately respond to Kurt’s comment, but there was nothing Blaine could say that wouldn’t make the conversation awkward. Thankfully, Rachel came storming in the room, frantic and obviously concerned as to why now  _Blaine_  had disappeared in the kitchen.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, noting the two of them sitting on the floor. “Where’s Andrew?”

“He went home.” Kurt said slowly, peeling his attention away from Blaine and giving it reluctantly to Rachel. “He said he couldn’t be around… Luke.” Kurt took a minute sifting through his words and deciding if he wanted to give the general idea of what Andrew was upset about, or repeat verbatim what he said. Kurt wised up last second and just summed things up for Blaine and Rachel.

  
Honestly, Blaine didn’t want to know what Andrew said. He was better off  _not_  knowing- but of course, Rachel didn’t see that. She didn’t believe in leaving out facts.

“What does he have against Luke?” She asked indignantly. “He met him like, four hours ago.”

“Really, Rachel?” Kurt sighed, raising his eyebrows. “Luke is my son. The child I had out of wedlock. With Blaine. A man that Andrew didn’t know existed until today. A man that  _carried_  our son- something that Andrew  _doesn’t_  think is an acceptable act of science- and works as a stripper at a gay club  _Andrew has actually been to before_.” Kurt’s explanation was strained and tense as he added each sentence, practically spelling out to Rachel every reason that Blaine saw trouble with Andrew attending Luke’s birthday.

“He’s angry about that?” Rachel asked, confused. Blaine was about to cut in and respond a very bitter and sarcastic fashion, until he saw the taken aback expression on Rachel’s face. She wasn’t confused about  _how_  Andrew could have found that news upsetting, it’s that Andrew  _did_  find it upsetting. Apparently, Andrew’s actions were a surprise to everyone. Including his husband and roommate.

“Very angry, Rachel.” Kurt confirmed, standing up slowly and sighing heavily as he brushed off his pants. “He’s very angry about it. He said that he’s going to be at home if I want to come apologize.”

“And are you going to go?” Blaine asked, standing quickly and subtly grabbing onto Kurt’s arm, stopping him from advancing towards the door.

“Fuck no.” Kurt said, turning to Blaine with a smirk on his face. “I don’t apologize to guys who don’t deserve my respect.”

Don’t deserve Kurt’s respect.

Kurt married a man that didn’t deserve his respect. Kurt  _didn’t respect his own husband_.

Blaine kept it to himself and followed Kurt and Rachel back to the living room, watching Kurt tuck the picture in his hands into his back pocket. Blaine also kept that observation to himself.

Rachel walked back to the area rug and sat back down in the center- center of the rug, room, and attention. Kurt was walking over to a couch and Blaine was right behind him, still reeling from Kurt’s comment.

“Hey daddy?” Luke asked, his voice reflecting both curiosity and worry.

  
“Yes, Luke?” Both Kurt and Blaine answered Luke’s call. Luckily, Luke didn’t notice Kurt’s response- or his embarrassed duck of the head as he quickly sat down and appeared composed. Luke remained focused on Blaine, his eyes wide and eyebrows knitted together.

“What is it, Luke?” Blaine continued, stepping towards him and taking him from Cooper’s lap. “What’s up, Champ?”

“Daddy.” He whispered, pulling on Blaine’s shirt. “ _Daddy_.”

“What?” He laughed, whispering back and coming closer to Luke, letting him grab onto his ear, bringing it closer to his face.

“Daddy… C-Can we have cake?” He asked sheepishly, whispering the request into Blaine’s ear- as if it were a prohibited request.

“Yes! Of- Of course!” Blaine smiled, kissing his son on the cheek. “Of course we can! Just ask Uncle Cooper- he made the cake after all.” Cooper had taken up baking the minute he heard he was going to be an Uncle. He said he wanted to be the ‘cool Uncle’. He only started making  _edible_  desserts about a year ago.

“Uncle Coop! Uncle Coop! Can we have cake?” Luke gave Cooper the biggest grin he could muster on his small, pudgy face.

“Hell yes!” Cooper cheered, clapping his hands together and jumping to his feet. Blaine glared at Cooper, pursing his lips into a thin line. Cooper met Blaine’s eyes and sighed loudly. “I’m sorry- _Heck_ yes.”

“Much better.” Blaine whispered, patting his older brother on the back as he passed, leading them all into the kitchen again. Although, Cooper went in with the sole purpose of serving desserts, not getting into a strange and uncharacteristically  _violent_  fight with his husband of only  _two weeks_.

Rachel excitedly trailed Cooper and seemed to be trying to boost the dying morale of the party by clapping and already humming the ‘Happy Birthday’ melody. She kept pulling on Luke’s feet, grinning brightly, and giving him Eskimo kisses while Cooper pulled the desserts from the fridge. Blaine almost hated Cooper for not becoming a skilled baker earlier- he would have been in  _heaven_  if Cooper could do all that around the time he was pregnant with Luke. The people that owned the bakery down the street knew Blaine by name and order by the end of his second trimester. They even gave Blaine a seat behind the counter where he could sit and eat while concealing his secret to the other customers without having to worry about any dirty looks. Beside Cooper, they were the first people to openly accept Blaine even though he seemed to be the only Carrier in the neighborhood; the owner’s daughter, Sophia, offered to be Luke’s routine, call-in babysitter after he was born.

“What one do you want us to sing to you with?” Cooper asked, displaying his many desserts. “I made plenty- I got bored yesterday when he was napping.” Cooper muttered to Rachel who was standing by his side, gawking at the multitude of desserts.

“I want that one.” He pointed quickly at the small vanilla cake in front of Cooper. It had blue icing and white piping that was admittedly lop-sided, but still delicious; Cooper made Blaine taste the icing as he was walking out the door for work the night before. “I want the blue one.”

“Blue? Alright, let me grab the candles.” Cooper smiled, digging through a cabinet drawer and producing four short pink candles.

Cooper put the candles in the center of the cake, struggled to light them, and almost burned the entire cake down in the process. Thankfully though, Kurt stepped in and lit the candles and started the song, humming the first note of Happy Birthday so they were all in tune before serenading Luke and causing him to almost fall out of Blaine’s arms as he excitedly went to blow out his candles and make his fourth birthday wish. The cake was divided up to Luke, Rachel, and Cooper- the first piece going to Luke who insisted he could feed himself all on his own  _without_ making a mess; Kurt and Blaine had decided to forgo the cake. Blaine because he didn’t want the sugar rush later that night at work and Kurt because he wanted the cheesecake that was perched on the kitchen counter, calling his name.

And that might have been because Cooper specifically made the cheesecake  _for_  Kurt.

Kurt sat down at the kitchen table, content with his cheesecake, and invited Blaine to join him, another spoon offered out to him. Blaine looked one last time at Cooper, Rachel, and Luke eating their cake- and smearing icing all over their fingers as they ate with their hands and  _all_  resorted to being four year olds- before sighing and sitting down next to Kurt.

“I’ll help you clean that up later.” Kurt laughed, forcing a spoon into his hand. “Just eat this first and forget about them.”

“I really shouldn’t.” Blaine declined, shaking his head.

“Eat the damn cheesecake.” Kurt told him, giving him a playfully annoyed look. “Your brother made it and it is  _fantastic_.”

Like with many things, Kurt wasn’t wrong. Blaine tried some and ended up sharing the piece with Kurt for the rest of the night, watching Luke laugh at Cooper’s antics and become very friendly with Rachel. As Cooper lifted Luke and made him into a ‘mini-Superman’, his high pitched squealing laughter echoing throughout the apartment, Blaine felt Kurt grab his hand under the table. Neither of them turned to look at the reaction of the other. They merely reacted by leaning into each other’s sides and tightening their grip on the other’s hand.

After they had remained silent for a while, trying to seem inconspicuous about their obvious reconnection, Blaine turned to Kurt, speaking softly so only he could hear.

“Don’t go home to Andrew. Come home with me.” Kurt didn’t turn to look at Blaine. His eyes stayed focused on the wall ahead of him. His expression remained static and cold while he  _finally_  responded:

“Okay. I will.”


	8. Stay With Me

Kurt wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. His mind had been scrambling ever since Blaine asked him to stay the night. The party was long over, the request had come and gone, Kurt’s affirmative response had occurred seamlessly (thank god), and Kurt was now walking into Blaine’s apartment, but he  _still_  had no idea what he was supposed to say- how he was supposed to  _act_. He had no idea what he was doing. He was  _married_ , standing in another man’s apartment. This wasn’t exactly a situation Kurt found himself in frequently.

“I, uh, really appreciate the offer to let me stay here tonight.” Kurt said awkwardly, filling the silence as he shut Blaine’s crooked front door. “And for letting Rachel crash with your brother- It’s very kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do for the father of my son.” Blaine smiled, kissing the crown of Luke’s head, causing him to restlessly stir in his sleep. “I didn’t want Andrew pushing you around or anything.” Blaine added quietly, avoiding eye contact with Kurt.

“Oh,  _please_.” Kurt laughed, thinking that Blaine’s added comment was merely him covering his ass and acting as though his offer for Kurt to stay the night was a  _purely_  innocent act. But, even with Kurt’s almost one hundred percent confidence, the way Blaine was squinting curiously at Kurt let him know Blaine had been completely sincere and honest with his request, which made Kurt look  _horrible_. “Oh shit you’re serious.” He muttered, covering his mouth. “I’m sorry. I thought- Sorry.”

  
Blaine rolled his eyes at Kurt and walked away, presumably putting Luke away so their conversation could continue in private. Kurt nervously remained still, glancing around casually and taking in the cracked floor boards, the wrongly caulked tile, and peeling wallpaper that was in Blaine’s foyer. Blaine really was  _just_ getting by. He wasn’t over or under exaggerating- everything was just as Blaine told. Falling apart, in shambles, and beyond repair- although Kurt was almost positive Blaine had only meant that to be in terms of his life and not his apartment.

“Luke’s down for the night. He won’t even  _think_  about waking up until nine tomorrow.” Blaine said quietly, walking through the foyer to the connecting kitchen and dining room. He was being blatantly coy as he sauntered by, letting Kurt’s embarrassment hang between them. Blaine was using everything he could to his advantage- which Kurt didn’t  _totally_  hate.

“Do you have work tonight?” Kurt asked, playing along with Blaine’s charade and avoiding the obvious discussion they  _weren’t_  going to have.

“I do. In about… six hours. I work from two to seven tonight.” Blaine answered, checking the heavily marked calendar that hung on the side of the fridge.

“Is that your work schedule?” Kurt asked without a second thought. He hadn’t intended to be the first to break the charade, but Kurt couldn’t stop staring at the calendar blocks that look absolutely _colored_  in. “Dear god, Blaine. When do you breathe?”

“Between lap dances, usually.” Blaine chuckled, unbuttoning his sweater and sliding it off his shoulders. “It’s not that bad, really. It’s just five or six hours out of my day, and then I come back home to Luke.” Blaine grinned brightly. “It makes it all worth it.”

Kurt had an entire line of questioning delicately prepared for when Blaine brought up his work. Kurt had been trying to think of casual ways to find out  _why_  Blaine was working where he was working when there were  _hundreds_  of other places of employment within a five block radius of his apartment- and hundreds more if you count those around Cooper’s apartment. Blaine had so many more options. It was bothering Kurt that he couldn’t come up with another explanation. He couldn’t get inside Blaine’s head for even a _second_  and see Blaine’s reasoning. Kurt had lost his touch with Blaine.

“Does it?” Kurt questioned, twisting his hands slowly as he watched Blaine’s smile fade into a furrowed expression.

“Of course it does. What does that mean?” Blaine asked, growing defensive. “I’d do anything for my son-  _our_  son, actually. You know, the one you weren’t even around for the  _birth_ of.”

Kurt had never considered the fact that Blaine actually had feelings about the subject still- it was still a sore subject for him. Kurt never actually expected Blaine to still have  _resentment_ towards the topic of both his job and _him_. Kurt was so caught up in Blaine’s invitation back to his place that he completely forgot that Blaine was still stuck in the same situation he was before- and probably feeling  _more_ smothered than before. After all, Kurt had only complicated matters by getting married and showing up to his son’s fourth birthday party with said husband who completely _lost his shit_. Kurt had been able to forget all the things he missed, but only because he  _missed them_. Blaine was unable to forget a single detail of things he had to do on his own; completely alone. And scared out of his mind.

“Blaine. That’s not what-” Blaine blew Kurt off and stormed down the connecting hallway, leaving Kurt stranded. “Blaine!” Kurt knew screaming would do nothing but wake Luke, so he kicked off his heavy heeled boots and quickly chased after Blaine. “Blaine, please don’t.”

Before Kurt could even reach him, Blaine’s bedroom door slammed in his face. Nothing was going the way Kurt had expected it to. He thought Blaine would feel safe and more than free to talk to Kurt and discuss his job choice. But instead, Blaine was putting up his walls again- this time literally.

“Blaine, I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.” Kurt admitted, knowing the only way to get passed Blaine’s walls was to come clean. Lying and covering his ass did nothing but make Blaine trust Kurt less. “I just meant, does your son really make everything okay? Because I know you. And you will do anything to please someone else- even if that means hurting yourself… I-I was just asking if your son makes all that… all that  _pain_ , go away.” Kurt leaned against the door frame and spoke  _to_  the door, hoping that Blaine would hear his sincerity. “I am not doubting how much you love  _our son_. I am merely doubting how ‘okay’ you are with this lifestyle you’ve given yourself. I was just going to ask and see if you were genuinely okay, Blaine. I still worry about you.” Kurt sighed, leaning his head on the door in resignation.

The other side of the wooden barrier was silent. Not even a creak of a floorboard, croak of a mattress spring, or muffled sniffle. Blaine was completely silent. Kurt quietly scolded himself because of how  _badly_  he had fucked up this time.

“I hate my job.” Blaine uttered from behind the door. “But they have the most flexible hours that don’t interfere with my time with Luke. I work the night shifts usually so I go while he’s asleep and he’s never the wiser.” The door slowly opened and Blaine’s puffy, tear stained face appeared in the opening. “I hate my job, Kurt. But I do it for him. It’s the  _only_  thing I can do for him.”

“What do you mean?  _Only thing?_ ” Kurt echoed, staying a respectable distance away from the door but still remaining emotionally engaged with Blaine.

  
“I can’t afford fancy daycare or even new toys- Luke is actually playing with  _my_  old toys. I am completely suffocating his childhood, and giving him eight hours a day and a roof over his very _very_ adorable head is the  _only thing_  I can do for him right now.” Blaine spat, growing upset again, though this time, Kurt was sure that it was at the situation and not at him. “Ever since the beginning I knew I was going to be a terrible father- and now I am! I am a bad father! I have no idea what I’m doing- I’m the  _worst_  father to have ever had a child!”

“Oh my god, Blaine! No!” Kurt cried, rushing in the room and taking Blaine in his arms as he began hyperventilating and whimpering, slowly curling into himself.

Kurt hushed him softly and pet Blaine’s hair, knowing very well that each touch could be his last- Blaine could push him away at any moment. But Blaine stayed. He gripped Kurt’s shirt in his balled fists and pushed himself against Kurt, making their two bodies fit together again: Blaine’s head buried in Kurt’s shoulder, Kurt’s arms tightly binding around Blaine and securing him of Kurt’s intention to stay, Blaine’s hands gripping at Kurt’s shirt, trying to ground himself and find an anchor- it became instantly familiar to Kurt. The intimate proximity, the desperate clutches, and the shuttering breath. It reminded Kurt of every time Blaine had confided in him, every time Blaine had felt  _safe_  with him, every time Blaine came back to Kurt, every time Blaine saw Kurt as his main escape- his main source of relief. It reminded Kurt that he hadn’t been any of those things in four years.

“You are  _not_  a bad father.” Kurt hushed, cradling the back of Blaine’s head and keeping it rested against his neck. “You are doing the best you can, Blaine.”

“B-B-But my best is lap dances on f-forty year olds-s and pulling one dollar b-bills from my p-pants every night!” Blaine hiccupped, his voice quiet and afraid. “My best is someone’s  _rock bottom._ ”

There it was.

“No no no no. Do not say that. You are  _trying_. You are doing a great job.” Kurt kept Blaine close even as he tried to pull away and seem composed. “A great job, Blaine. Our son is going to be  _fine_.” Kurt wasn’t sure if he was keeping Blaine close for his own sake or for Blaine’s. Either way, neither of them pulled away from the other.

They clung to each other until Blaine was able to take a stable breath and properly thank Kurt without breaking out into tears again. Kurt pulled his shirt sleeve over his thumb and carefully wiped away Blaine’s tears, continuing to coax his nerves down with loving, honest words. Kurt could feel the moment coming closer.  _The_ moment. The moment when a proclamation of lost love is completely warranted and almost guaranteed some form of positive response that won’t shatter the reconnection. Kurt licked his lips nervously and cupped the side of Blaine’s face.

“Blaine,” Kurt exhaled quickly and tried to regain his composure as he kept firm eye contact with the shaking boy in front of him. “Blaine, I just wanted to say something-”

Kurt’s melodic speech forming in his mind was rudely disrupted by his cell phone vibrating in his back pocket. Kurt was moments away from saying his piece anyway and talking over the phone’s noise, but Blaine had broken eye contact with him and was searching for the source of the noise.

“It’s me. It’s my phone- Hello?” Kurt sighed, answering the phone without even checking to see if it was anyone important enough to ruin  _the_  moment.

“Kurt. Where are you?”

“No where, Andrew.” The name made Blaine straighten up and pale instantly. “I’m out with friends.” Kurt reached over and grabbed Blaine’s hand, assuring him he was right there with him. He wasn’t going to let Andrew find them.

“No, Kurt. Tell me where you are- tell me an exact place- I’m coming to get you. You’re coming home.” Andrew demanded, his voice rising again. Kurt knew that if he winced, Andrew wouldn’t see him, but he also knew if he winced, Blaine would take full notice and only begin to panic more. He squeezed Blaine’s hand and was comforted by the return pressure.

  
“No, I’m not, Andrew.” Kurt responded, keeping his voice firm and tone sharp. “I’m staying where I am and you are staying where you are- You need to calm down.”

“You’re with him, aren’t you?” The sentence shot through Kurt like a rogue electric current; It was the truth. It was the truth disguised behind an accusing tone and disgusted scoff. It was the truth that made Kurt look like the bad guy. It was the truth that Kurt suddenly wanted to be a lie.

“Goodbye, Andrew.” Kurt said, trying to sound bored- like he was in control and not about to play his games.

“I KNEW IT! YOU TELL THAT SICK FREAK THAT IF I FIND-”

Kurt ended the call before Andrew could finish his threat to Blaine and before Blaine could even hear Andrew’s unadulterated, no holds back, we-are-no-longer-fighting-in-a-stranger’s-home, secretly laced with honest hatred, angry yelling. Kurt couldn’t even stand hearing it. It shook some part of Kurt down to its core- it was a yelling that made Kurt feel small, made him feel like there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to refute their statements. It made Kurt feel like he was in high school all over again- silenced, ignored, invisible.

“Y-You can go if you want. I’d understand.” Blaine sniffled, releasing Kurt’s hand to wipe his eyes again.

“No. I’m staying.” Kurt assured Blaine, pulling him back in for another embrace. “I’m not going to leave you. Not again.”


	9. Protesting

Blaine rolled over in bed, his back cracking and his joints creaking as he shifting in his uncomfortable, fetal position in bed. Blaine wasn’t sure why he was balled up  _on top_  of his sheets. He blinked slowly and felt the drying crust of past tears crack and flake away and allow his vision to return to one hundred percent. It was only then that Blaine realized he was in bed next to Kurt Hummel, previously curled up in his arms, having been consoled by a married man the night before.

Blaine tried not to act startled as he slowly slipped away from Kurt to begin to get ready for work. It was weird seeing Kurt lying in his bed again; his face was blank and stoic, but glowing and beautiful. But, yet again, that’s how Kurt always looked when he slept.

Blaine walked over to his closet and found his usual throw over tank top and shorts he wore to work. He dropped his pants so he was standing in just his underwear as he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it into the laundry basket by his feet. Blaine was careful to not be noisy and he tried to maneuver around the room in order to fully cloth himself again. It would just be plain embarrassing for Kurt to wake up while he was practically naked. Which is of course what happened.

“W-What’s that?” Kurt’s voice was barely above a quiet mutter, his voice thick with drowsiness. His eyes were following Blaine around the room carefully, taking every newly unfamiliar inch in. Blaine hadn’t changed much since the  _last_  time Kurt saw him naked, but he knew what Kurt was staring at.

“It’s just my scar. It’s from having Luke.” Blaine told Kurt quietly, looking down at the slightly raised, red grin sitting just above his waist band, the bottom dipping just below it.

“Oh.” Kurt seemed almost embarrassed for asking.

Then again, Blaine understood; Kurt knew every scar Blaine had on his body- the pale discolored knick on his left hand from when he fell off his bike in third grade, the long grayed gash long the back of his thigh from Sadie Hawkins, and even the pin-prick, star shaped scars on Blaine’s shoulders from the time his father used him as target practice with his beer bottle. Kurt knew all Blaine’s body like a well laid out map; it was no surprise the minute he saw a new landmark, he was curious. For Kurt, it was like waking up from being unconscious and seeing an injury on yourself; you always ask what happened. You do it instinctively when it’s your own body. And to Kurt, Blaine was almost an extension of himself. Asking was second nature.

“What was it like?” Kurt asked timidly, shifting on the bed and sitting up, trying to change the air in the room to a more serious, yet open, tone. “I mean, you said it yourself last night, I missed everything. W-What was  _everything_  like?”

Blaine hadn’t expected Kurt to ask  _that_. He hadn’t expected a flood-gate question. There were so many ways he could answer, and none of which were really answers that Kurt wanted to hear- or expected to.

“I-I don’t know. I try to forget most of it.” Blaine admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he dug around for his shirt.

“Forget it? Forget  _what_?” Kurt asked as though he was hoping to jog Blaine’s memory and find out as much as he could. He was thirsty for every drop of information he could gather from Blaine; he was  _completely_  in the dark after all. Blaine could just easily lie if he wanted. Make everything seem like it had been smooth sailing.

“Uh, just… Doctor’s appointments, mostly.” Blaine muttered, shuffling around the room and trying to seem occupied and  _not_  like he was avoiding looking Kurt in the eye- as if he was a solar eclipse.

“What was so bad about the doctor’s appointments? What could’ve happened?”

—-

_Blaine_ _could feel the numerous sets of eyes on him. He was almost six months along and had **no way**  of hiding it. He let his arms curl underneath his belly- a sad attempt at wrapping himself up in a tight cocoon; it was the most he could reach nowadays._

_There was an elderly couple to his right, a young couple across from him, and an empty seat to his left side. There were other couples scattered around the waiting room, but their staring was much more subtle than the two closest to him. The younger couple never took their eyes away from Blaine’s face- his constant furrowed eyebrows and lip biting- while the elderly couple stared directly, and only, at his belly. They were obviously there for someone **else**  but took it upon themselves to judge everyone else while they waited for their assumed single granddaughter going in for a check up. Not that a single mother was an implication of bad character or terrible morals, it was merely an implication of a norm that wasn’t accepted by society. A norm that didn’t accept Blaine either, yet there he sat feeling like the only outsider._

_“Are you waiting for someone?” The woman across from Blaine asked, touching his leg softly, seeing if his eyes would refocus on her and not the floor space between his two feet. “Is someone coming with you?”_

_“Uh, no.” Blaine said slowly. “I don’t have a wife to wait for… I’m kind of having this baby **all by myself**.” Blaine tried to remove all the venom from his voice, but it was much harder than he thought. It was like she was  **trying**  to mock him._

_“That’s not what I meant.” She laughed, smiling at him sweetly despite the rude way Blaine had responded. “I meant, are you going to your appointment by yourself? Do you have any moral support?”_

_“Oh. Yeah… I think. My brother’s supposed to be here. He said he would be.”_

_“I’m sure he will be.” She grinned, leaning back in her chair._

_Blaine_ _had been waiting for Cooper for two hours; **now**  the woman was mocking him. Accidently, of course, but Blaine still took is as such. Especially since the couple next to him, scoffed under their breath and muttered to each other about the utter  **sin**  Blaine was living in._

_At this point, Blaine was more than used to it, but it didn’t make it right. Just because Blaine was used to **anything** , didn’t make it okay; He was used to being denied cribs, diapers, meals at restaurants, coffee, service in stores, respect, and common courtesy._

_“Blaine?” The nurse, Jamie, called from the doorway, leading to the examination rooms. She spotted Blaine and grinned brightly, waving him over. Blaine tried to push himself up to his feet, but in some mix of low rising chairs and shaking muscles, Blaine fell back down twice and needed the help of the man sitting across from him to help him regain his balance. He could feel his face burning up as he retreated behind the door with Jamie, the nurse that always took Blaine’s appointments; she was the only one who would._

_“Alone today?” Jamie asked, leading Blaine to examination room five. Blaine watched her slide a purple card into the slot hanging on the door and pretended to not care: Carrier Patient. “Where’s the mister?”_

_“M-Mister?” Blaine came back to their conversation as Jamie broke his eye contact with the slip as she closed the door. “Jamie, I’m not married… Or dating.”_

_“That man you always come in with.” She winked at Blaine as she grabbed the ultrasound wand. “Come on, Blaine. It’s just you and me.”_

_“No, really, Jamie. Cooper is my **brother** \- And I don’t mean that as some ploy to get past society’s homophobic tendencies. Cooper is literally my brother.” Blaine insisted, laughing softly and feeling for the first time that he was human. He wasn’t some medical miracle and a one in three million rarity. It was a wonderful feeling, one that Blaine actually forgot existed. He forgot what if felt like to be at ease- even if it was only for a moment as he reclined in the cot and allowed Jamie to roll up his shirt to access bare skin for the ultrasound gel._

_“I know. I know. I just like giving you a hard time.” She laughed, pressing the wand against his stomach and causing Blaine to shudder at the sudden pressure and chilled gel rolling across his stretched stomach. “I love you and your brother. You two are my favorite patients.”_

_“Jamie. We’re your only patients.” Jamie was called into the office for Carrier patients and so far Blaine was her only patient and she was his only willing nurse._

_“Still my favorite.” She repeated, looking away from Blaine to stare at the moving black and white screen warping and shaping as she moved the wand. “And there it is… He looks very good today; we have a full side view!”_

_“He?” Blaine echoed. “It’s a boy?” Blaine hadn’t intended to sound like it was bad news, because it wasn’t; Blaine just didn’t have a name for a baby boy. He only had names for baby girls._

_  
His baby was going to be born in three months and he didn’t even have a **name**  for him._

_Blaine_ _could feel his face crumple as he tried to hold back his tears. He tried to look away from Jamie and hide his upset from her, but it was severely ineffective and even in the dim lighting she saw every emotion Blaine ran through as he covered his face and began crying. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want anyone to see him. He kept his hands firmly planted over his face, nearly suffocating him, and tried to sort through his emotions and get them to subside. But the panic was just too great; it took him months to simply settle on a handful of girl names, now he had to settle on one boy name in three months. Blaine had become so indecisive since his life had fallen apart, he didn’t know how he was supposed to name his own child, let alone raise it. Failure was becoming more and more likely the more he considered his situation._

_“I’m here!” Blaine heard someone call down the hall, making him peek through his fingers slowly. “I’m here! I’m here! Tell my brother not to worry, I am right-” the door swung open and slammed into the wall behind it. “Here.”_

_“Cooper!” Blaine cried, uncovering his face to outstretch his arms. “Thank god you’re here!”_

_“Yeah, sorry about that. The traffic was ridic- Have you been crying?” Cooper might have been a college drop out, but he was definitely more observant than many people- including Blaine- gave him credit for. “Why is he crying? Is the baby okay?” Cooper asked Jamie, whipping his head towards her to stare at the monitor._

_“The baby is fine… It just happens to be a boy.” Jamie replied slowly, putting the wand back on the cart and wiping Blaine’s stomach._

_“A boy? Oh that’s great!” Cooper smiled, looking down at Blaine who burst into tears again. “That’s not great, is it?”_

_“We-We- We don’t have a name!” Blaine hiccupped, his voice shaking with each body lurching sob. “I don’t-t even have a n-n-name for my own son!”_

_“Oh, Blaine, come on!” Cooper cooed, shushing his sobs and sitting down in the chair next to him. “You know that doesn’t mean anything. A name is just a name. It’s a word that is strangely assigned to a child at birth so they respond to something other than ‘human’ and the world has a little variety- It’s not a big deal.”_

_Understatement of the century._

_“B-But if I can’t name my son, w-w-who’s to say I can even r-raise him! I’m g-g-going to be such a b-b-bad father! He’s going to h-hate me!” Blaine was practically screaming now. His sobs were causing his entire body to shake as he attempted to curl himself into a ball, but could barely pull his legs up with his belly in the way._

_“He’s not- Oh my god he’s **not**!” Cooper laughed, taking Blaine’s hand and pushing the hair off of his forehead sweetly. “He’s not going to hate you! There is no way in hell that this wonderful miracle of modern science is going to dislike anyone- it has the DNA of two of the nicest men on the planet. It’s probably going to come out asking the doctor how their day has been.” Blaine felt himself crack a small smile as his sob turned into a rattling, wet chuckle. “Don’t you worry about this baby, okay? Your job right now is to just take care of it, and then  **have it**. The name will come naturally.”_

_“You promise?” Blaine muttered quietly, gripping his older brother’s hand tightly._

_“I promise, kiddo.” Cooper smiled, kissing his forehead. “Now let’s take a look at this kid- I’ve gotta see that side profile again. I need a picture for my wallet.”_

_Before he left the examination room, Blaine had to convince Jamie yet again that Cooper wasn’t the dad. Which Cooper thought was hilarious, and he came back into the waiting room grinning like an idiot._

_“Look at it. Filthy Carrier.” Cooper’s smiled fell and his eyes darted around in hopes of finding the source of the hateful slur. Blaine kept his eyes down and pulled Cooper along, nearly having to push him out the front door. And into some picketers._

_They were chanting angrily about the disgusting behavior the office was committing by letting people like Blaine be patients in the same place as ‘normal people’. They all had vibrant hateful signs and some even had sandwich boards hanging over them as well. Their message was very clear: Kill the Carriers. One of them even had a gun- real or not Blaine wasn’t sure- hanging from his belt, forcefully spreading his message to two men walking by, obviously trying to get as far away as possible._

_“Blaine, get back inside.” Cooper muttered underneath his breath. “We can wait for them to leave.”_

_“No, it’s fine, Cooper.” Blaine lied. “I can do this.” Blaine already felt like a pathetic, weak human being; the last thing he wanted to do was let people like **this**  win. Blaine wasn’t going to let them push him around. Not if he was carrying Kurt Hummel’s child._

_Blaine held his breath and took a step forward, breaking the wall of picketers. The minute Blaine was next to one of them, a young woman with her assumed husband next to her, all hell broke loose. First there was the immediate silence due to the fact that the exact demographic which they were persecuting was **inside their group** , but then there was the panic._

_The woman recoiled in fear and shoved her sign in his face as a shield between Blaine and her- as if he was going to infect her with some quality she didn’t already have: procreation. A tall muscular man that was leading the protest began using his megaphone to shout directly in Blaine’s face, making it impossible to pass him, or ignore his hateful rhyming chants. Blaine clenched his fists, making sure he kept his stone faced expression plastered on his face as he took another step forward, hoping to make it out of the circle of terror. Of course, that’s not how it went. The man saw it as a form of attack and shoved Blaine harshly on the shoulders, causing him to stumble back into the crowd, who all repeated the action, putting Blaine in some sick, hate-fueled mosh pit that only intensified the more that Blaine fought and the louder Cooper yelled._

_Eventually, Blaine fell to the ground, his arms failing to brace his fall and causing him to lay on the ground, completely vulnerable and open to those crowding around and staring down at him. Blaine knew what was about to happen even before the first person picked up their foot. He had been in this exact position before; Sadie Hawkins, freshman year, laying half dead in a school parking lot with three jocks twice his size glaring down at him in some horror film tunnel vision, each one kicking harder than the other._

_Luckily, Cooper was still standing and more furious that Blaine had ever seen him. Only three people had gotten a kick in before Cooper was pushing people to the ground and scooping Blaine into his arms. Cooper broke into a run and took off for the busiest part of the street, where they knew there would be police and witnesses if anyone followed them. Blaine turned his head and peered over Cooper’s shoulder as he bobbed along, watching the crowd close around the gap left by Cooper’s entrance and continue to shout after them, their signs rising higher and voices traveling farther._

_They were never going to leave Blaine alone. Obviously not those exact people, but their **idea**. Their hatred, their disgust, their violence; it was going to follow Blaine- and his son- for their rest of their lives. There was no escaping it, no getting around it, no defense from it. Blaine was branded and vulnerable. Even as they walked down the street, people continued to stare, some even spitting slurs at Blaine and ‘accidently’ shoving into Cooper, nearly knocking the two of them into the street. Yet another attempt at killing the two of them…_

—-

“Blaine? What is it? What happened?” Kurt asked hesitantly, breeching the subject again after a lengthy awkward pause where Blaine struggled to even formulate a way to describe what was running through his head. “B-Blaine?”

“Oh, nothing really.” Blaine replied, trying to appear chipper and unaffected. “I- I guess I am just too oversensitive. The appointments were fine.”


	10. Come Back

The loft was much emptier than when Kurt left it.  _Much_  emptier. There were boxes stacked everywhere Kurt looked. On the side of half of the boxes was ‘Kurt’ written in heavy thick lettering. Each box’s labeling getting darker, messier, and  _harsher_  as Kurt walked through the house, following the rustling sound he heard coming from his bedroom.

“Rachel?” Kurt asked quietly, running his hand through his hair and making sure it didn’t look too ruffled and messy- like he  _hadn’t_  just slept over at another man’s apartment. “Rachel is that you?”

“Kurt. So glad to see you’re home.” Andrew smiled, stepping out from behind the curtain and startling Kurt. He was smiling, composed, and pleasant, but his eyes were empty, staring down at Kurt, watching him trip backwards at his unsettling expression.

“W-What are you doing, Andrew?” Kurt asked, keeping his voice steady but internally looking around and finding the easiest thing to throw.

“Packing.” He replied as if it was the  _only_  answer to explain his strange behavior. “We’re moving.”

“Excuse me?” Kurt asked, suddenly finding his voice. Andrew was _far_  too confident in his answer for Kurt’s liking. “We are  _not_  moving.”

“I keep forgetting you were too busy sleeping over at Blaine’s to be here for the phone call.” Andrew laughed, brushing past Kurt and stacking two more boxes before scribbling on them. “My parents called and want us to move back to Michigan.”

“Andrew, let’s talk about this.” Kurt was trying to respond to Andrew’s statement without giving him any satisfaction about commenting about him staying with Blaine. “You can’t just pick us up and move where ever you want-”

“Oh. Yeah. I can.” Andrew snapped back, his face stilling and growing deadly. “You can cheat on me and I can move you away from your little side whore-”

“Side whor- _Blaine_? Are you talking about Blaine?” Kurt asked, completely flabbergasted. “Blaine is not some  _‘side whore_ ’.” Kurt nearly laughed at the name, but immediately felt disgusted when he realized that Andrew  _meant_  what he was saying. He truly thought that lowly of Blaine.  _Of Luke’s father_. “Blaine is a nice person. He’s always been nice to me- And to you! He was nice to  _you_  even though we’re married!”

“Nice person?” Andrew cried, his voice slowly getting louder and echoing in the skeleton of their loft. “He’s a stripper, Kurt. And he’s a filthy carrier. How can you associate with those kinds of people?”

“Is  _that_  really what this is about?” Kurt actually did laugh that time. He found Andrew’s hatred and bigotry hilarious, considering he grew up in a close minded town in Detroit; Kurt grew up in Lima, which Kurt knew was quite  _worse_  than where Andrew was from, but he was still open to other people’s differences. No one had to be perfect. And no one was. Except for Blaine. Or, actually, perfectly  _imperfect_.

“I don’t like you being with him.” Andrew stated simply, their argument becoming a solid statement- something that was  _indisputable_.

“So, you’re just going to move me away from the state I have been  _dreaming_  of living in my entire life, just because you can’t handle me spending time with an old friend? Are you  _kidding_?” Kurt shouted, stepping into Andrew’s personal space. “Are you  _five_? Oh my god, I’ve married a child. I’ve literally married an emotional constipated teenage boy with no coping skills.”

  
“Don’t talk to me like that-”

“Then stop acting like one.” Kurt practically whispered in Andrew’s face, smiling at him before turning on his heels and grabbing the nearest box, starting to unpack it. Kurt was pulling out a glass knick knack he always had on his nightstand when Andrew grabbed his arm and kept it from moving another inch. Kurt kept his eyes down at the box, waiting for Andrew to let go, but the grip only got tighter. “Let go of me.” Kurt demanded, craning his neck to stare at his husband.

“Put it down.” Andrew replied through gritted teeth. “Or I break it. I break all of it.”

  
Kurt immediately heard Andrew’s tone of voice include  _bones_  in that equation. His hands unknowingly dropped the small raven in his hands and barely winced as it shattered on the floor. He was too busy tugging his arm from Andrew’s grip.

“Andrew, let  _go_ \- Andrew! What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this? Andrew!” Kurt finally got his arm free and staggered back, staring at Andrew with complete shock and a small spark of fear. He wasn’t really  _afraid_  of Andrew- he could handle him- he was more afraid of the fact he was completely  _unaware_  of what was about to happen.

“We’re moving.” Andrew repeated, dropping his arm and looking slightly startling by himself, but still as stubborn as ever. “No discussion.”

Kurt opened his mouth to begin fighting with Andrew, yet  _again_ , but knew it was no use. Andrew was just a ticking time bomb that was only headed for explosion- it was just a matter of time. And Kurt was the only one around.

“Fine. Move. I’m just not going with you.” Kurt said finally, marching towards the door. He grabbed the charger out of the wall, his wallet off the counter, and event book from the kitchen table, before saluting Andrew and slipping out the door smoothly, leaving no room for rebuttal.

“Kurt! Where are you going?” Andrew called after him, rushing out of the door. “KURT!”

“Call me when you land! Tell the family I said hi!” Kurt shouted back, racing down the steps, not looking back for a second.

Kurt was in no way running from Andrew- he  _wasn’t afraid_ \- he was running from his attitude; There was no way that he was going to give Andrew the time of day to let him just verbally attack and blow up on him. Kurt was better than that- he deserved so much better.

No one pushes the Hummels around.

Kurt walked out into the city, sliding in with the sidewalk traffic and moving right along, pulling his phone out from his back pocket and quickly calling Rachel on the phone. She didn’t pick up, naturally.

“Rachel. Don’t go home. Andrew’s in a mood. Find somewhere to stay- I don’t care if it’s with Mercedes, Santana, or even Cooper- just let me know where you are and I’ll come find you later, okay? Love you, Rach.” Kurt ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket swiftly before swinging around a lamppost and making it across a crosswalk just in time before the steady stream of cabs and SUVs rushed through the intersection.

Kurt had a destination and he had a plan. Sure, it probably wasn’t something that Kurt would take the upmost pride in later when he looked back on that day, but he didn’t care. He could feel his chest swell with a mixture of pride, revenge, and anger. Kurt was both taking matters into his hands and hating every moment of it. He didn’t like that he had to, but that didn’t mean he still  _wasn’t_  going to let Andrew pout around like an immature child who saw their toy being picked up by another child. Kurt had no idea who that man was- who was stomping around his apartment, packing up  _his_  stuff and thinking he could just tell Kurt that he was moving to a different state.

As Kurt climbed the stairs of a newly familiar apartment building, he wondered if he was even sure of himself when he married Andrew. Everything seemed like a blur now. With each step, he realized that each day was just Kurt adding ‘another day they had been together’, making their engagement turn into the obligatory ‘we’ve been together for a while… let’s get married’. That’s not what Kurt wanted. He didn’t want an ordinary husband. He wanted an  _I-will-brag-about-you-to-everyone husband_ ; the type that had dinner ready for him when he came home because he felt like cooking his favorite meal for no particular reason, the type that would call Kurt at work and tell him how much he missed him and wished that his work day wasn’t so long at Vogue.com, the type that would practically jump Kurt’s bones every time he walked in the front door, the type that loved Kurt for everything he was- and even the things he wasn’t. The type of husband that Blaine was.

Kurt didn’t think twice before knocking furiously on Blaine’s apartment door. He knew Blaine was home and would definitely answer the door immediately. There were only two people that could be behind the door. And one of them definitely  _wouldn’t_  grab him and kiss him unsuspectingly the minute the door swung open.

“K-Kurt! What are you doing?!” Blaine gasped, pulling away from Kurt, but only enough so they weren’t in each other’s immediate ‘kissing’ personal space.

“In your apartment or kissing you?” Kurt asked, slightly out of breath. He wasn’t sure if it was from the multitude of stairs he ran up, the kiss, or the complete thrill of the situation.

“The latter, Kurt.” Blaine deadpanned, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Kurt wasn’t sure how to explain the prior events smoothly and in coherent thoughts. So he just kissed Blaine again, this time taking in the way it made his stomach clench and his skin feel prickly and electric- he hadn’t felt that in years. Kurt hadn’t had a kiss that made him resent the end of it in  _such_  a long time- he almost forgot that it was possible to feel this way. To feel so  _alive_.

“Kurt.” Blaine’s voice was much softer than before. He was lost in Kurt’s form of persuasion that he almost forgot he was supposed to be mildly enraged with Kurt for kissing him. “Kurt, what are you doing?”

“Remembering what being in love is like.” Kurt replied, not taking his eyes off Blaine’s matured, but still ever gorgeous face- especially his honey eyes that were currently stuck in a mix of awe, worry, and panic.  “Andrew… is making accusations, and I wanted to see if he was right.”

“And?” Blaine asked quietly, his nose nudging Kurt’s innocently as he came closer.

“He was  _so_  wrong.”

“What?” Blaine asked, leaning back to look into Kurt’s eyes, searching for answers and where he was taking the point.

“Andrew is acting like I’m tossing him aside, when really I was never really on his side to begin with.” Kurt confessed. “I never knew what it was holding me back from feeling  _settled_  with Andrew. The whole time it was you. In the best way, you were holding me back, stopping me from completely  _fucking up my life_.” Kurt sighed, brushing his thumb along Blaine’s cheek. Blaine immediately pushed Kurt’s hand away and took a staggering step backwards.

“No. Kurt. You are not talking about leaving your husband or not loving him. No. You are not. I won’t let you.” Blaine shook his head quickly and paced in the foyer, refusing to look back at Kurt, who was frozen, taking that moment to look back on his choices and beginning to regret them. “Kurt. Please, go home. Go back to Andrew.”

“No.” Kurt snapped, coming out of his daze. “You don’t get to start telling me what to do too! I am my  _own_  person- I can do whatever it is that I want. And if that thing is being unfaithful to a relationship that I’m not even sure is something that I want to be a part of, then  _goddamn it, Blaine_ , I’m going to do it.” Kurt was nearly shouting by the time he finished his short, single breath rant. “This is something that I am going to do.”

“And what is that?” Blaine asked slowly, stepping towards Kurt, feeling the energy in the room change to something a little more unsettled and heavy. “What are you going to do, Kurt?”

“Leave. I’m leaving Andrew.” Kurt said sternly, giving himself the last push he needed to no longer feel like he was on a rush of endorphins, but in fact, making the right decisions. “I am leaving Andrew and I’m coming back.”

“Coming back  _where_ , Kurt?”

“To you, of course.”


End file.
